


One to Love

by Ramzes



Series: Targaryens: Times of Glory [12]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-13
Updated: 2013-12-16
Packaged: 2017-12-08 09:15:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 21
Words: 43,762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/759685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ramzes/pseuds/Ramzes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everyone knows Aegon V Targaryen married for love. But love was never easy for Targaryens. It was no different for Aegon. This is his story... as well as the story of some others. Officially AU now, with TWoIaF released.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Many a time, Dunk had stared at the formidable walls of the Red Keep and wondered what it would be like to live in such a palace; many a time, he had visited various castles, from strongly fortified to basically defenceless, from sumptuous dwellings to mere shacks. But he had never seen something as beautiful as Summerhall, nestled in his green valley, with its vast gardens and buildings in red and white. The halls and courtyards were meticulously kept, many windows in the main building gave the façade light, aerial air. Everything was saturated with the fragrance of flowers. Summerhall was a place of abundance and prosperity and Dunk liked it here, although he wouldn't like to live in the castle. He had yet to find out whether the soft linen sheets – better than anything he had ever laid his head upon – were thanks to his position as Prince Aegon's companion, or simply the norm for the knights of Maekar's guard, he thought sleepily before drifting off.

He woke up at sunrise to a pair of eyes staring at him very intently. They were not Egg's eyes. Without thinking, he grabbed the intruder by the wrists so he could not raise his sword.

"What in seven hells…"

"Hush," a young voice said. "Keep silent, ser. otherwise they'll hear us and I'll be returned to my rooms for my septa to lecture me again. Don't be afraid, I won't hurt you. I just wanted to see you. Would you mind letting me go now?"

A girl. It was only a girl about Egg's age but already dressed up like a lady. Her mauve gown was finer than anything Dunk had seen, her hair pale silver without the faintest hint of gold. _She won't hurt me?_ he thought amazed, trying to fight off sleep. As if she could! She was just a child… although he did not know what to expect of her, given what he knew of her second brother. Dunk immediately looked at himself, to make sure that in tacking her, he had stayed decently covered. To his relief, the sheet was in place.

"Ser?" the girl said hesitantly. "My hands?"

"Oh, of course," Dunk said and immediately let her go. He obviously had handled her more roughly than necessary, or maybe the red bruises were just more visible on the soft, tender and fair skin of her wrists. "Look, I am sorry about that," he said. "I didn't mean to grab you with such strength. I don't know why I bolted like this. You weren't touching your nose to mine or something."

She giggled at that.

"Last night, I saw you in the great hall at the feast," he said and she nodded.

"Egg pointed you out to me," she said. "But you were sitting then. Are you really as tall as he says?"

Now Dunk was truly awake. "You are Egg's sister," he said. "He said he had two of these…"

"I am Rhae," she confirmed. Looking at her, Dunk could see the family resemblance. She and Egg had yet to reach the age where his facial lines would harden into a more masculine look while hers would refine into female exquisition. But unlike Egg, she had eyes that were truly black, so dark that he couldn't see the irises.

"Oh." Should he now bow, or what? No, he couldn't, even if he wanted to: he was just in his unmentionables but he couldn't _say_ it, could he now? "Where is Egg? I mean, Prince Aegon… Your Grace?"

"Still sleeping, I think." She shrugged. He was so tired that last night, he practically fell asleep while he was telling us about your adventures in Oldtown. Didn't stir when Father carried him to bed. And I am not Your Grace, the Queen is at King's Landing. I am just 'Princess', or 'my lady', if you prefer so."

The upper layers of her hair were braided and coiled around her head like a crown, with rubies shining in them. She looked every inch a queen, albeit a miniature one. "You are more beautiful than the Queen, I'm sure," he muttered without thinking, and she laughed.

"My lord father says I am the very image of the Queen when she was my age. Did you really foil the Blackfyre pretender?" she asked. "And you and Egg – you really rode double? For real?"

Her eyes were wide with disbelief. Dunk shook his head as best as he could against the pillow. Princesses were really creatures of another world. To her, riding double was no doubt the ultimate downfall. And about the Blackfyre pretender… Dunk could only count his blessings that he had not been there throughout Egg's retelling of the story. For all he knew, the boy could have said that he had single-handedly decimated the entire Blackfyre army – paltry as it had been – riding a dragon of all things. His ears would have turned red, he was sure.

"What are you doing here?"

Egg stood at the door in a close-fitting doublet in black and red, glaring at his sister. She smiled at him sweetly. "I just wanted to see Ser Duncan, Egg. I was curious."

"I told you I'd bring you to meet him but of course you couldn't wait." His lip curled in derision. "What did I expect of a _girl_ , anyway?"

"Getting up in time," she shot back. "I wonder how Ser Duncan managed to travel at all, with you sleeping all the time…"

"Ha!" he snorted. "What would _you_ know about traveling? Where have you been, except for here and King's Landing? You don't even know what a fascinating place Oldtown is."

"Oh!" she cried, enraged. "It isn't fair to rub it in my face. Just because you are a boy…"

"Just a moment, if you please," Dunk intervened, trying to wrap his head around this sibling clash that had started raging with the speed of lightning. "I am sure you've got a better place to discuss this at…"

None of them paid him any mind. Egg did glance at him but that was it. A knight who would not rise from bed was hardly authority, Dunk had to admit. Egg and Rhae kept staring daggers at each other.

"But I _am_ a boy," Egg said, complacent to no end. "That's why one day I'll be a Kingsguard and you… you can marry Aerion," he finished, inspired all of a sudden.

The effect, however, surpassed by far everything he had hoped to achieve. "No!" Rhae shrieked, her lovely face suddenly white. "No, I won't! You're saying this just to spite me."

"No," Egg insisted. "I heard him saying that he'd take you to wife as soon as you become a woman."

"Not true!" Rhae cried and suddenly started shaking. "Not true!"

Now, Egg looked really sorry. When tears started trickling down her cheeks, he actually looked guilty: he took a small piece of cloth out of his pocket and offered it to her. She buried her face in it.

"Here, here," Egg said, looking definitely uncomfortable. "Listen, I am sorry. I was just making it up. You'll never marry Aerion, I'm telling you."

She kept snuffling against the cloth but when Egg patted her head awkwardly, she shook him off.

"I'm sorry," the boy said again. "You were right, I was just trying to spite you."

"For which you'll have a good clout in the ear," Dunk felt obliged to say. Unfortunately, Egg was clearly unimpressed.

Rhae muttered something under the cloth.

"I'm sorry, I didn't catch that," Egg said.

"I said," Rhae's voice came, this time more clearly, "that I'll never marry anyone. I don't want a husband."

Egg looked amazed. "Every woman wants a husband."

"Not I," she insisted and took the cloth off to reveal her determined face. "I'll never take a husband... and I'd rather die before accepting Aerion."

"But... but..." Egg stuttered. "But the only women who do not marry are the ugliest ones and septas."

"That's right," she agreed, thrilled that she had been understood so quickly. "I shall become a septa!"

Egg's eyes went wide. Rhae's tears were drying quickly and she looked very pleased with herself at the sight of his shock. Dunk wanted to groan. Somehow, he'd end up being blamed for this. He simply knew it. If he had any luck, they'd leave here before the Princess could do something to make his life harder. But then, luck was not on his side ever since he had first encountered her brothers in that inn a lifetime ago.

And he wouldn't have it any other way.

* * *

**A. N. I'm laying my bets on the theory that Egg who was obviously betrothed to his sister Daella married, in fact, his sister Rhae. I think he did because of the name of his daughter and granddaughter – Rhaelle and Rhaella, respectively. Of course, I could be wrong.**


	2. Chapter 2

_A few years later…_

They arrived after nightfall, finding the gates of Summerhall closed. Of course, it was to be expected and the tall knight and the young squire looked at each other. "Should we make a camp somewhere around and approach at dawn when they open the gates?" Dunk asked.

Egg thought about that but then shook his shaven head. "No," he said. He loved traveling with Ser Duncan and living like a commoner boy, leading a life packed with adventures but… this was Summerhall, this was home. It was so close. He wouldn't spend another night out of it, not if he could avoid it. "We'll keep going. If you don't mind," he added as an afterthought. "Ser."

"I don't," Dunk said. If anything, he had learned to expect the switch from his squire Egg to Prince Aegon Targaryen happen in a matter of moments. "Truth be told, I'd rather like a decent dinner and a soft bed myself… even if it is in a royal castle," he added. If he could have the dinner and bed without the royal inhabitants of Summerhall, he'd jump at the chance.

Egg grinned and urged his horse on, soon approaching what in the day would have been the giant shadow of Summerhall. But of course, after dusk there were no shadows.

Dunk realized his mistake as soon as the dark figures emerged on the wall, bathed in the eerie red light of torches.

"Stop!" someone yelled. "Who is there?"

"Open up," Egg yelled back. "I am Aegon Targaryen and I have returned home. Open the gates!" And he made his horse prance a few steps further, so he could find himself into the light of the torches where the guards could see his face.

With impressive speed, the gates clattered open. Egg and Dunk slowly rode in. Once inside, they dismounted and went to the stables to take care of their horses, to the great disapproval of the grooms who muttered that it was no chore for a Targaryen prince.

"Come on now, Ser," Egg said. "We are to pay visit to my father and then on our way to dinner and bath… or maybe the other way around." He laughed. "My sisters will faint, most likely, if they come close to us as we are."

"Do you want a clout in the ear?" Dunk inquired. But of course, his squire was right: they did stink. Dunk could even smell it himself.

They left the stables and headed for the main building. Dunk noticed the spring in Egg's step. _Having a family, even one like the Targaryens, must be better than having none_ , he reasoned. Then, he thought about Aerion and found his former conviction challenged.

They were halfway to the front door when a female silhouette emerged from the shadows and almost bumped into Egg. The woman gave a startled shriek. When she moved aside, the torches around the yard revealed her face: it was Princess Rhae. As always, she was dressed immaculately but the tears drying on her cheeks revealed her distress. "Egg!" she exclaimed and clasped him in a quick hug before smiling widely at Dunk. "Ser," she said.

"Why are you crying?" Egg asked and she shook her head.

"I am not," she denied but it was very obviously a lie. Egg's eyes narrowed in suspicion.

"Has Aerion returned home?" he asked sharply and she gave a feeble laughter.

"What? No, Aerion is at Lys, as far as I know. He has nothing to do with it."

For a while, Egg was silent, looking at her inquisitively. Dunk stared at her also, noting the changes that had taken place during the two years since he had last seen her. She was not a woman yet but she was no longer a little girl, either. Her skin looked fairer, her eyes more expressive, her body had started rounding nicely under the silk gown. Her hair tumbled round her shoulders, straight and silvery.

Princess Rhae was a great beauty in the making. It was obvious. That made Dunk wonder about the changes in Egg – changes he could never see because he was with the boy daily.

"If it wasn't Aerion," Egg finally asked, "then who it was who made you cry? Should I make them regret it?" he asked and for a moment, there was a strange note in his voice. Rhae looked at him and blushed all of a sudden, shaking her head.

"It's nothing."

"I don't seem to remember you crying over nothing," he insisted. "Rhae, what's wrong?"

"Rhae!" a woman's voice cried out. "Where have you _been_? You scared us! Maekar, she's here," she called to the Prince who was obviously not far away.

Rhae looked at her guiltily. "I am sorry."

"Well, you should be! We thought… Aegon!" she exclaimed, delighted.

Egg made a deep bow. Dunk followed suit.

"Your Grace," the boy said before she clasped him to her, not minding the smell.

In the torchlight Aelinor Targaryen, the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, did not look like a real woman but rather a marble statue with little to no life in it – marble face, marble hair, marble gown even. She had the cold glow of a perfectly formed snowflake; but when she pulled aside and smiled at Egg, her features suddenly changed – she no longer resembled a statue but an exquisitively beautiful woman of flesh and blood. Then, her eyes fell on Dunk. "Is it him?" she asked.

"Your Grace," Egg said. "May I present Ser Duncan?"

Now, Dunk went to one knee. She was looking at him with great interest. "Stand up," she said. "I'd really like to get to know you better, Ser. Aegon and Rhae tell me good things about you. So does my brother."

Dunk stood up. "It will be a great pleasure, Your Grace."

Egg rolled his eyes and Rhae giggled. Dunk looked from one to the other, trying to find out what he did wrong.

"Not 'pleasure'," a brusque voice said from behind them. Prince Maekar came near and Dunk, barely having recovered his footing, had to bow again. Anyway, he still didn't understand. Maekar enlightened him. "You should have said you would be 'honoured' to do the Queen's bidding."

"Oh." _Dunk the lunk, thick as a castle wall and slow as an aurochs._ He blushed. But gruff as it was, there was no anger in Maekar's voice. The Queen did not look affronted, either.

"And you two," Maekar said, looking sternly at his children. "It's never good to mock those who do not know, instead of teaching them better. Aegon, I expected better of you than mocking your knight."

"I am sorry, Ser," Egg said, looking at Dunk. "I am sorry, Father."

"They meant no disrespect, my lord, I am sure," Dunk said.

"I wish I were," Maekar muttered under his breath, then looked at his son up and down, from shaven head to filthy boots. "You both look good," he stated. It took Dunk a moment to realize that by "you both", the Prince now meant Egg and Dunk. "Your smell, though…"

A sudden lightening tore the sky over their heads. They all startled. "There will be a storm in a few minutes," Maekar said. "Oh well… You two," he said, looking at Dunk and Egg, "do and have a bath, you need one. You…" This was meant for Rhae who stubbornly refused to meet his eyes. "You go to your room and calm down your septa who already thought you were lying dead somewhere. Then, we'll have a talk. You, come here."

Dunk had no idea whom he had addressed last. But the Queen obediently went to Maekar who took his cloak off and placed it over her shoulders. "There is no need…" she protested.

"Yes, there is," he interrupted. "I won't suffer for you to get ill again. Now come, let's get you warm. I'll expect you in the great hall. Get in time for dinner, or go hungry," he added to the three young people over his shoulder as he was walking away with his sister. Now, Dunk saw the slight limp in the Queen's gait. Maekar discreetly adjusted his hand against the small of her back, helping her walk.

"She had an accident once," Rhae explained under her breath. "Spent a whole night out, in the snow. She was on the brink of death and never fully recovered."

"I had no idea she was here," Egg said. "Too dark to see the banners. Is the court here?"

"No," Rhae said and the three of them headed for the castle. "Only Aunt Aelinor. She came here to recover her health after an illness. Frankly, I think she's trying to sway Father into going back to King's Landing."

"And does she have any success?"

She gave him a very sarcastic look. "What do you think?"

* * *

Fire and blood. Fire and blood everywhere, screams and faces crumpled up with fear. Heat flaying people alive. Dead dragons falling from the sky, their colourful bodies trashing in death throes, their enormous wings smashing everything around when they landed. The dust was littered with corpses, both dragon and human, only partly visible due to the smoke filling the halls. Somewhere near, an army of maesters chanted panicky words trying to get the fire under control until they all fell pray to the flames one by one, loyal to the last. An immense shadow fell over Summerhall, the home of his heart, a shadow Egg somehow knew would never lift.

He woke up, gasping and shaking, and looked wildly around. He was in his own bedchamber at Summerhall. It had been all a terrible dream… but deep inside, he knew it had been something more.

Rhae withdrew the hand she had been shaking him with and instead, touched a dry cloth to his face. He expected she'd mock him or at least, make a joke that he'd finally found something to scare him worse than Aerion but she did nothing of the kind. "I wanted to see if you were awake, so you could tell me more about your adventures," she said instead, wiping his skull. He felt that his entire body was drenched in sweat.

"I will," he said. "Just not… not now."

"What were you dreaming of?" she asked.

Egg suddenly shuddered. It was the dead of night. A single candle burned on his bedside table. The fire in the fireplace was dying, suddenly chilling him to the bone. It was so peaceful.

He remembered so vividly the heat and chaos from his dream. Friends and family, everyone he loved.

"Of death," he said. "I was dreaming of death."

She sat next to him on the bed and took his hand in her own. "Dreams," she said. "They are not real, Egg. They only scare us."

He shook his head against the pillow. "This one was different." He knew it. "This one was true. It will happen, Rhae. Summerhall, the glory, the laughter and the tears – it will all scatter in the wind. So many will die." To his horror, he felt tears springing to his eyes. Rhae silently wiped them off and lay beside him, he under the sheets, she over them.

"Sleep," she whispered. "It was only a dream. Daeron is the one with the curse, remember? It was only a dream. Sleep. I'll keep you safe."

Her fingers were tender as butterfly wings against his shaven head. He closed his eyes and against his will, after a while felt that he was drifting off again. Just before sleep overcame him, he asked drowsily, "Do you really intend to become a septa? I thought it was all talk, but now you told Father you would…"

"Yes," she said. "I don't want to be married off. I want to be able to devote my life to learning and doing some good."

He looked at her, more interested now but still sleepy. "I heard they intend to give you to some Baratheon…"

"They might intend whatever they like," Rhae said. "I'll become a septa."

"And if I fell in love with you? If I wanted to marry you and not our sister?"

For a long time, she did not answer. He was already drifting off, this time in hopefully dreamless sleep when he thought he heard her whisper, "Then, I won't become a septa."

But then again, it might be just a game of mind before falling asleep.


	3. Chapter 3

_Two years later…_

The sweltering heat of the last days had given way to the softer warmth of early autumn. A faint breeze moved the curtains of the solar and made the parchments on the table rustle. Egg drew a hand across his head – he was not yet accustomed to having hair, even if it was just beginning to grow. He focused again on what his brother was saying.

"Velaryon?" Daeron, for once almost sober, read from a list. "What do you think?"

Egg immediately shook his head. "Too proud of his dragon lineage. We cannot elevate his status further by marrying him to a Targaryen princess."

Daeron looked at him, said nothing. "Arryn then?" he asked.

"Too hotheaded. And extremely fond of fighting."

Daeron chuckled. "That's the same thing you said about Baratheon," he said. "Be careful. You've just started repeating the same lines."

Egg looked at him and laughed, with angry honesty, silently admitting that Daeron was right. "I suppose I am a little overprotective," he admitted. "Rhae deserves the best husband we can find for her. But the ones Father and His Grace have in mind isn't it."

Daeron only looked at him, the skepticism evident in his drawn features. Weird, sometimes Egg could swear that his drunkard of a brother was the most lucid member of the family.

"Am I really that transparent?" he asked. Daeron nodded.

"But only to me," he said.

"And you don't mind?"

Daeron suddenly smiled. Had Egg's hair been longer, he would have ruffled it, as he had done when Egg was a toddler with pale silvery locks, as long as the girls'. The boy would need all the support he could get… even if it meant a drunken wretch plagued by dreams that were not only dreams. "No," he said. "Your union is the Seven Kingdom's fate."

Egg shivered. He did not doubt Daeron's dreams but… fate could go both ways. "I am scared," he suddenly said without meaning to. "It goes against anything that is good and right. It would have been so much easier if I could just fall for Dhaella, as I ought to. Frankly, I don't know why I didn't. She's certainly a lot easier to get along with than Rhae."

Daeron did know. Dhaella was certainly the best of them… and that was exactly the problem. She was just too good, too nice and agreeable. And Egg liked fire. Rhae did have that, even when she was fuming quite unpleasantly.

"Anyway, I don't see why I should follow tradition and marry a sister," Egg went on, irritated. "Sure, we are Targaryens but I am so insignificant in the great scheme of things."

Daeron looked aside and suddenly felt that he needed a drink. He did not look at the goblet while taking it, though, so he upset it – all over the list with Rhae's potential husbands. Egg cursed and started wiping the splashes. Daeron did not try to help him. He only stared at the red drops against the white tablecloth. They looked like drops of blood. But it was not the kind of blood spilled on the battlefield. It was the blood of life, the blood that persevered, the blood that held. All of a sudden, he was back in one of his most recurrent dreams – a dream of green fields and rich harvests, of tournaments and musicians, of hardworking craftsmen and content traders, of fair judgments and peaceful life, all that blended into a single impression of prosperity and flowering – all that under the benevolent yet firm eye of a silver-haired king. Only recently, Daeron had started making out the king's face.

"You are not so insignificant," he muttered under his breath, and Egg looked at him.

"What?"

"Nothing," Daeron said. It was no wonder that he had not recognized the man in his dream – most Targaryens were silver-haired and his visions span to tens of years ahead. But this one, this king, he was now sure it was Egg – as he would become. And a small feeling of contentment moved him. Since the first time he had dreamed of the glory of Aegon's reign, he had desired it to come to pass.

And the ruins of his beloved Summerhall… surely it would happen hundreds of years from this day. Certainly not in his lifetime. Not in the lifetimes of his loved ones.

Damn it, he would have to get this drink after all.

* * *

_A few days later…_

"I wish we could leave already…"

Egg shook his head. "We've been here barely two weeks. Why would you want to go back to the dullness of Summerhall? Didn't you get bored all these years there?"

Daella shook her dark head. "In all honesty, I find King's Landing more boring," she said. "I cannot do anything useful here. I miss my mothers."

Egg gave her a serious look, although his eyes were twinkling. "It's a good thing I know what you mean," he said. "Otherwise, that might have sounded… peculiar."

Many years ago, their mother had founded a shelter at Summerhall – a shelter for unwed mothers. Maekar was said to have opposed vehemently but Princess Naeryn had gotten her way about this… actually, she was said to have gotten her way about everything, no matter whether Maekar knew it or not. She had sent maesters there to help women who suffered hard labours. It was a cruel trick of fate that she had died in labour, along with her last baby. A few years ago, Daella and Rhae had revived the shelter. Egg had heard that Daella actually worked there, along with the midwives.

Well, Summerhall still stood, so their father was certainly ignorant about that.

"I'll bet you have heard more peculiar things on your travels," Daella said and looked at him, smiling. "Your Ser Duncan's life tends to get quite interesting with you around."

"So he says," Egg muttered and wondered where his big knight who had gradually evolved into his sworn shield without either of them noticing or desiring it was. Probably in a tavern with a wench on either knee. _He's certainly big enough to host them_ _both_ , he thought, amused.

But he was getting aside of the track. He had come here with a mission. "Daella," he said, "I need to talk to you."

She looked at him over the herbs she was sorting. "You are already talking to me," she said.

"No, I am serious."

She sighed. "Go on."

But he was silent. He did not know how to start. The last thing he wanted was to hurt her. And there was no way to avoid it either way.

"Is it about the wedding?" she asked. "You are afraid that we won't agree where to live? Don't worry, I will suffer King's Landing if I must. I do know what is expected of me."

Egg's throat closed. He, too, knew what was expected of him. And he knew he couldn't do it. Neither could he tell her that. So, he didn't.

As soon as he left her chambers, he went to see Rhae. She met him at the door of her solar and they sat on the sofa. They'd be safer in her bedchamber but recently, they had discovered that it was not safe to be alone with a bed nearby… even without considering the certain newfound discomfort they felt just at being in a _bedchamber_ together…

She looked at him, a silent question in her eyes. He sighed. "I did not muster courage to tell her," he said and his heart beat painfully at the sight of her disappointment.

"I see," Rhae said. She really did. She was no longer the little girl who had slipped a love potion to him. Now she understood. She no more wanted to hurt Daella than he did. They both loved her. It would have been so much easier if they hated and despised her.

Egg took her hands, so pale and soft against his tanned, rough ones. "I will tell her, Rhae."

"When?" she asked.

"Soon."

She did not know whether to believe him. She did not blame him, though. She was just as scared of this conversation as he was. She drew her hand back and ran it through her hair. "Listen," she said. "Maybe we should just let it go."

"Never." The answer was immediate and instinctive.

"Then what?" Rhae asked. "If neither you nor I dare tell her? You do realize that the preparations for your wedding are about to start, right? Not to mention the list of potential husbands Father, the King, the Hand and the Council discuss for me."

He stood up and started pacing. "No! I am telling you, Rhae, you will marry none of them."

Now, she got angry. She stood up and went to look him in the eye. His eyes met hers, purple against dark. Despite her silver hair, she had eyes that were truly black, irises merging with pupils. Dornish eyes. The eyes of Baelor, of Queen Myriah, of Maron Martell. Maybe Queen Nymeria had had eyes like that. "Oh? And why, do tell? I deserve husband as much as Daella!"

"Not one of them!"

As enraged as they were, they kept their voices low, instinctively. There were servants everywhere. "Why are we discussing my wedding when it is nowhere near?" Rhae asked. " _Yours_ , on the other hand…"

Egg waved a dismissive hand. "You know very well why. I am not seeing you running to Daella to enlighten her about the situation, aren't I? Why so?"

"Because she's not my betrothed!" Rhae was seething with rage. No, he would not foist this on _her_. "The action should be yours, as well as the decision. So, are you going to get married or not? What's your final word?"

"I am."

She glared at him and willed those stupid tears away. "Very well," she said. "Now, if you please, I must get ready for dinner…"

He caught her arm and looked at her. "I am going to get married," he said. "But not to Daella. I will marry _you_. Truly, Rhae. I will."

He had told her that before but this time, there was something in his voice and face that made her believe him. She squeezed his hand, silently.

At the other side of the door, the Queen shook her head and decided against entering. Her mind was reeling. During her last visits to Summerhall, she had started suspecting that Rhae and Aegon did have feelings for each other. Now, it was confirmed. And she did not know what to do. She knew she should approach Aerys or Maekar with this information – if nothing else, they would not appreciate being made to play the fools, trying to negotiate a marriage for a princess who simply would not enter it. Poor Daella would be crushed if Aelinor did not act. And gods themselves could not help her if Maekar found out that his sister had known about this. He would cut her of his life without hesitation. She did not want to lose him – of all the men in her life, he was the only one who had stayed at her side, as tense at it was, and he had just started healing his rift with the King. Rhaegel was slowly descending into madness and it pained her to look at him losing himself. Aerys was… Aerys. She respected the Hand but she had never been close to him.

And still, and still… If Aegon truly married Rhae, Daella would be hurt and offended but later she would have the chance to be a wife in her own right. The Queen remembered - oh how she remembered! - how jealous she had been of Naeryn. How jealous she still was. Not because of her Velaryon – Targaryen - features. Naeryne had been beautiful but no more than Aelinor herself. No, it was because Maekar had been mad about her. She had been the King's choice, of course, not Maekar's own. But he had been smitten with her since he first met her. Aelinor had seen it, for she had been there. Sometimes, she thought she would have been happy to live as the lowliest peasant woman if only there was a man to look at her the way Maekar had looked at Naeryn at their wedding.

She headed for her chambers to get ready for dinner. She already knew that everything would taste of cinder.


	4. Chapter 4

_Two months later…_

"But where are you going to go?"

Egg sounded more lost than Dunk had ever heard him – even at Ashford Meadows, even when he had first heard the other story of the Blackfyre Rebellion. His eyes were huge and almost black. His hair had grown back – still short but unmistakably Targaryen, silver-gold and lustrous. He looked entirely comfortable in his velvet doublet with the Targaryen dragon, the attire he had been born to. He was becoming a man and as glad as Dunk was, it made him more certain of his decision.

"I don't know yet… Where gods seems fit to take me."

Egg snorted. "Now you're speaking like a septon."

"Do I? I suppose you are right…"

Egg looked away, at the mighty walls of the Red Keep, clearly silhouetted against the sky. There was no one in the garden, just the two of them. "No, what are you going to do? Truly."

"I don't know," Dunk admitted, trying to hide his own utter confusion. For so many years, Egg had been a part of his life. It felt as if they had always been together. Still, he had known that one day, they'd have to part ways, had known it since the beginning. Prince Aegon of the House Targaryen could not spend his life as a hedge knight… and Dunk of Fleabottom could not accept being elevated only by royal benevolence.

It wasn't easy, though. "I'll find a place somewhere."

"You could find a place with me," Egg said unnecessarily. What had happened to his joy of finally being knighted? Now he hated the custom, hated the ceremony, hated the lavish celebration his royal uncle had thrown for him. He didn't want any of it if that meant he'd lose Ser Duncan. It was bad enough than Rhae's marriage was being discussed with alarming frequenty and he really needed to do something about that... and now this, to top the cake.

"I can't," Dunk said. "You know I can't."

"You can," Egg cut him off. "You just don't want to."

Dunk sighed. "Very well, I don't want to. All this palace nonsense, politics and all… I am not meant for that."

Egg shook his head and looked away, at the flower beds. They were already welting. Nothing could flower in this hot summer that looked as if it would never end.

"These are just excuses," Egg said. "I always thought…"

He fell silent. Maybe he hadn't been fair to Ser Duncan. He had always taken for granted that one day, Ser Duncan will stay with him when he assumed his duties of a prince. He had never considered that his big knight might actually want another life. He had just been focused on what he wanted, other people's wishes be damned. _Like Aerion,_ he thought, dismayed. His older brother had recently returned and he was as bad as ever. So bad that he, Daeron and the girls didn't even comment on it – there was nothing to be said.

Well, Daeron had said something – _"Beware of him, Egg."_ As if Egg didn't know it already!

"I don't want you to go," he said, simply. "But if you want to, I won't try to stop you."

Then, he went past Dunk and quickly disappeared among the trees surrounding the garden, not even noticing that his father was coming toward them from another path.

Maekar looked at his son's retreating back and then at Dunk who was obviously upset. "What happened?" he asked sharply. He looked weary and especially short-tempered, even for him, so Dunk decided to cut it short.

"I told Egg… I told Prince Aegon that he has no need of me now that he's knighted. He… he didn't take it well."

"I see." Maekar was silent for a while. "Is there anything I can do to make you stay?" he asked.

Dunk looked at him, taken aback. "What?" the Prince asked gruffly. "Surely you didn't think I'd just say, "Off with you"?"

Since these had been Dunk's very thoughts, he did not voice them.

"You did well with Aegon," Maekar went on. "He has turned out just the way I hoped he would. Surely there must be a way to keep you with us?"

Dunk made a step aside and found himself at the edge of a pond, looking at his own reflection. A memory of another day, much like this, suddenly came to mind. Again, he felt the queer sympathy he had felt for the Prince back then, and now he did not know the reason. Maybe it was because lately, there had been troubles in Westeros and they were all showing on Maekar's face – he could not hide it. "I don't think so, Your Grace. The years spent with Prince Aegon were very precious to me but now I need to find a way of my own. And I won't find it at King's Landing, I don't think so."

Maekar nodded. "I can see your point. I wish I could change it, though."

"You honour me, Your Grace."

"But you won't change your mind?"

"No."

Maekar was still staring in the direction his son had disappeared in. "One of these days, you should come to me. Make sure to remember."

"I will, my lord." Dunk had no desire to accept what Maekar certainly had in mind. But he had seen enough of him to know that he took great delight in this, dispensing honours and rewards to those who had done him good service. And well, now that he had the chance to draw further comparisons between Egg and his brother Aerion, he _had_ served Maekar well. Not that he had meant to. He had simply enjoyed Egg's companionship.

"What?" The sudden anger in the Prince's voice made him look up. Maekar was staring at someone who was coming toward them. "What is this?"

Dunk turned around sharply and almost fell flat on his back – right in the water. Maekar's strong hand caught him just in time, before he became quite literally the soiled knight. As it was, the only casualty was the hem of his cloak, soaked in water – a good thing because the cloak was perfectly serviceable and only a year old, practically new.

 _I'll miss the boy_ , he thought. _But I'll be only too happy to be well away from the rest of the family._ Maekar's face became even darker when the thin man stopped in front of them. He bowed and Dunk followed, having belatedly realized in whose presence he had now found himself.

"What's wrong with Aegon?" King Aerys asked. His voice had a soft pitch to it and Dunk knew it wouldn't carry well over the battlefield. His face was kind and old, much older than his years, his attire in a state highly unbecoming a king. Oh his robes were velvet and rich but stained, as if he could not be bothered with such a mundane concern like changing them. His short-sighted eyes traveled upwards on Dunk – all seven feet of him – and widened slightly, as if he found the young knight a fascinating subject to be studied. Still, his mind did not deviate from his primary concern. "I saw him running past me. I asked him what troubled him but he didn't even stop to answer. Is he well?"

"It's nothing," Maekar said. "He'll be fine. Why are you alone?"

Aerys sighed. "Don't start again, brother…"

"Me?" Maekar asked sharply. " _You_ shouldn't start again. Where is the Kingsguard? I thought they were supposed to be your shadows?"

"I don't need them in the centre of the Red Keep."

Maekar took a deep breath, trying to hold his temper in check and failing. "Last week, a pair of hired murderers managed to find their way into your bloody _bedchamber_ and now you're talking about the Red Keep? What, should I fetch you a torch to better look for your trouble with?"

The King ran a hand through his long fair hair, a shade darker than Maekar's silver. Dunk tried to pretend that he was not hearing a thing. Fortunately, neither Targaryen paid him any mind.

"You're exaggerating, Maekar. Things aren't half as bad as you are making them out to be."

"So I am exaggerating, aren't I? There were no murderers involved, then? By the way, did they speak out?"

"Not yet."

Maekar snorted. "Not yet! Of course it is 'not yet'. You aren't exactly urging them to talk, I am sure."

The King touched a hand to the leaves of a bush nearby. "I appreciate your concern. But torture is never a way to get a reliable confession."

"So you'd rather sit idle without trying to get a confession at all," Maekar spat and kicked a completely innocent rose bush. "Bittersteel and the Blackfyre spawns are plotting rebellion, half your lords are playing both sides, there are murderers making their way into your chambers whenever they feel like it and you are sitting here, busy reading books and being good. Gods! I thought I'd never be at the same mind with your Hand about anything but he is right, it's hard to be a good king and a good man at the same time. Especially if you want to stay alive. Do you?"

"I won't decimate half of Westeros to teach the other half a lesson," Aerys said firmly. "Don't worry, Maekar, I am not going to make myself a living target. But I won't be followed around all the time."

Maekar had many more things to say, it seemed, but somehow he managed to get a hold of himself. A thick blue vein was throbbing in his pale forehead. _Like Egg sometimes,_ Dunk thought. Maekar opened his mouth but reconsidered, bowed stiffly, shaking with fury, and left in long strides.

For a while, the King looked after him. There was a strange mix of exasperation, tiredness, and a hint of affection on his face. When he could no longer see him – Dunk could, though; Aerys' eyesight was clearly as bad as it was rumoured to be – he turned to the young knight. "He is right about one thing, though. These are dangerous times we live in. And now that Aegon is fully grown-up, it will be harder for him to hide behind a shaved head. You'd both better be careful."

Dunk blinked, stunned at being spoken to. He was surprised even more at the realization that the King obviously knew who he was, what he and Egg were doing and everything. "Prince Maekar always insisted that Aegon's identity be hidden," he said.

"I wish I could have seen how you convinced him to allow the boy go with you," Aerys said. "Given his... peculiar nature, you must have been very persuasive indeed."

"It was Prince Aegon who convinced his father, Your Grace."

"Really?" The King looked mildly interested. "That makes four of them. Four people who were able to convince my brother into doing something he strongly opposes. Naeryn was one of those, of course… The Queen has always been able to make him do what she wanted and besides, convince him that it was what he wanted, too. I'd like to learn how she does it. I could use it well but alas. For forty years, I never got the secret. But she does it so I know it can be achieved."

Dunk was stunned. Aerys was talking about his family as if they were very interesting subjects to his academic curiosity. As if he'd like to study them, or maybe as if he had tried already. The King went on. "Aemon seems to be finding the way with his father, too… and now Aegon? Good for him. Maekar could use some good advice. His heart is in the right place. His temper, though? Not always."

Dunk could only stare at the stooped man who looked nothing like a king, and wonder how anyone could think him absent-minded and unaware of the state of affairs around him.

"Prince Aegon is a good lad, Your Grace. I think he'll be useful in any way you need him to."

Aerys smiled slightly. "Yes," he said. "I believe he will. I expect no bad surprises of this one. He will always do his duty."


	5. Chapter 5

_A few days later…_

The day was dying in a blaze of blood and fire. At least, it looked so to Rhae who had little positive things to think about. She stood on a terrace overlooking King's Landing, looking at the city that was buzzing with activity. Finally, things had started to go better. Merchants, artisans, artists, poets – everything had started flowering as it had in the days of her grandfather. _Father is wrong about the Hand,_ she thought _. No matter his motivations, Lord Rivers is good for the kingdom._

In the heat, she shivered. A thing that was now deemed as good for the kingdom was her wedding to Lyen Baratheon. The House Baratheon needed to have their loyalty reinforced if the Targaryens wanted to have its support for the next Blackfyre Rebellion as they had enjoyed it during the first one… And Egg, the coward that he was, still hadn't told Daella that he wouldn't marry her, that he'd marry Rhae instead. Sometimes, Rhae liked to imagine how _she_ would tell their sister and finally put this shameful situation to an end. She would never actually do it, of course…

A page came toward her. Rhae had seen him in the royal chambers but she did not know his name. He bowed. "My lady, Her Grace has required your presence."

Rhae raised an eyebrow. Lately, she hadn't seen much of the Queen who had become more subdued than usual, forsaking any company but the one she could simply not avoid.

"Tell my aunt that I am coming."

One of her father's hunting hounds was lying near the door of the inner yard. At Rhae's approaching, it bounded to sniff her hand. She rubbed its ears. The hound looked at her and howled, feeling her distress. _It's a good thing that my family isn't as smart as her_ , Rhae thought ungraciously and entered.

While she was going past the guards in the hall, she suddenly wondered whether her sister would be there, too. She did not want to see Daella. She felt too guilty.

In the Queen's rooms, there was a bright fire lit up. Rhae immediately felt faint with heat while she was making her curtsey. _I know she is a dragon but surely this is too much? I like bathing hot but…_

Aelinor was sitting at the table, leafing through an old book. Two ladies in-waiting sat in a corner, their faces red with heat. They did not dare say a thing, of course.

"Rhae," the Queen said and looked at her. "Leave us," she ordered the others. "You are free for the rest of the day. I don't need you when I'm going to bed."

"Will the Princess be capable of assisting Your Grace by herself?" Amyra Tully asked.

"Yes," Rhae said and the women left curtseying.

"Sit down, child," Aelinor said. "Next to me."

She was immaculately dressed. When Rhae touched her hand, it felt chilly, despite the feverish shade of her skin. Rhae felt a desperate pity for her aunt who seemed to find warmth in King's Landing only in the heat of fire. Aelinor was so very different at Summerhall, where she had grown up. Rhae blamed it on the King, as much as she loved him. _I cannot understand Uncle Aerys at all. Why does he shun her bed? How can he resist such a woman? She's so beautiful, kind and thoughtful._

As if in response, she heard Egg's voice from the time they had been cautiously circling over the matter of their mutual attraction. _Love cannot be commanded._

"I was reading about the relationship between the kings and the Faith," Aelinor said. "What do you know about this?"

"That King Maegor taught the militant septons their place," Rhae immediately said, wondering what had gotten into her aunt's head to read about this now. "I know he was not known for kindness and nice temper but he got the job done. He did it so well that they do not trouble us at all, even now."

Aelinor smiled. "Not too diplomatic an answer but a refreshingly clear one. I could not have said it better…"

"That's nice to hear…" Rhae said and looked around for something cold to drink. A goblet of lukewarm water would have to do.

For a few minutes, they kept chatting about small things until suddenly Egg entered and bowed to the Queen who invited him to sit down. He did, carefully avoiding looking at Rhae even while he was accepting the water she offered to him.

"You have sent for me, Your Grace," he said.

Aelinor nodded and looked at both of them.

"If you intend to do something, you'll have to do it fast," she said. "Tomorrow, the Small Council will discuss the marriage matter and issue a statement that you will be wed to Lord Baratheon, Rhae."

They were completely taken aback. Egg looked at Rhae; Rhae looked at Egg. Then both looked quickly aside before looking at the Queen. "I… err…" Egg started. Rhae could not muster even that much.

"Yes, yes, I know about your relationship," Aelinor cut him off. "Don't bother to deny it. I take it that Daella still doesn't know?"

Egg got something like a grip of himself. "I… I wanted to find the best way to tell her…"

Aelinor sighed and her fingers started opening and closing in a fist. "The best way, eh? Well, I can help you. You've run out of options, for you've run out of time. You'll have to act now, if you are to act at all. Do you think we could turn things back? If your father gave his word once?"

No, Egg didn't.

* * *

_Five hours later…_

"Your… Your Grace, I must say that's a highly unusual plea…"

"You are mistaken," Prince Aegon cut him off. "It is not a plea at all. It is an order."

The High Septon looked around but in this hour, the Great Sept of Baelor was empty. Well, not quite. Two silhouettes cut impressive white figures in the dim light. Kingsguards.

"But… my prince, your lord father will be highly displeased with me! I cannot possibly conduct such a ceremony without his consent."

Rhae rolled her eyes, said nothing. While it was true that her father would not be happy with neither them nor the High Septon it was certainly not the holy man who would bear the brunt of his anger. This honour would fall to her. And Egg. And…

"My lord father is not here," Aegon said. "As you can see."

"But I am here," Aelinor put in. "And I will give my blessing to them."

The High Septon bowed. "I understand, Your Grace, but you must see…"

"What?" she demanded. The kind and devout woman was suddenly changed into a merciless stranger. Stories about Visenya, the fierce Targaryen queen and mother to Maegor, gods curse him, suddenly chose this moment to appear in his head. "Do you dare defy your Queen, Septon?" She made his office sound like an insult. _"Do you?"_

He swallowed. His Adam apple bobbed up and down. He was not a cowardly man but the Faith had a long and painful history with the Targaryen rulers.

Aelinor's face softened. "I will take the full responsibility," she assured him. "The King and Prince will know that I was the one who gave the order."

Again, his eyes went to the two Kingsguards. There was no doubt in his mind that they would force him into conducting the ceremony if the Queen so chose. So… at one hand, there was Prince Maekar's wrath to consider, for marrying his children without his consent and actually, against his wishes. At the other, there was the Queen's fury at being disobeyed. And while Maekar and his mace could be quite frightening – he had nothing to lose, for he was a kinslayer already. Surely he should burn for that, even if it was an accident, - the Prince was not here. His son, though, was. The Queen was. And also, the Kingsguard.

"Very well," he sighed. "Let's start the ceremony."

Prince Aegon led his sister between the statues of the Father and the Mother and the High Septon started the abominable ceremony, just like many years ago he had done for Prince Aerys and Princess Aelinor. It always made him slightly sick, the way Targaryens placed themselves above gods' laws. At least Aerys and Aelinor were rumoured not to have consummated their marriage. Looking at Aegon and Rhae, the High Septon felt fairly sure that this would not be the case for these two.

The Princess did not wear a Targaryen cloak – a good thing, since it would be pretty pointless to remove it only to have it replaced with a cloak of the same colours. No, Rhae did not wear a cloak at all and, it seemed, no one had bothered to get one for the second part of the ceremony. Prince Aegon simply took his own cloak off and placed it upon her shoulders. The dragons in the velvet seemed to burn bright in the torchlight. She smiled at him and he returned the smile. They looked horribly infatuated and disgustingly happy, like any newlyweds, not brother and sister at all. Except that they very obviously were, their looks stunningly similar.

Aelinor made a step towards them and gave each a kiss on the cheek. "I wish you great joy in each other," she said. "Now go and take as much of this joy as you can. Tomorrow, it will be a long day. We'll have to confront… well, everyone."

Prince Aegon pulled Princess Rhae to him and stared into her eyes, no matter anticipating said joy. Then, he looked at the Queen and his mouth curved into a crooked smile. "Unfortunately, yes."

The High Septon was extremely relieved to see their party leave his sept. He, too, was not anticipating the following day and he did not even have the joy the Prince and Princess were obviously on their way to experiencing.


	6. Chapter 6

_The next day…_

Early in the morning, Egg and Rhae woke up together in a mess of wrinkled sheets and tangled bedcovers. The sun had barely started rising and they were too weary, thanks to the sleepless night. The purple shades under Rhae's eyelids were only a touch darker than Egg's eyes. He placed a kiss on her neck and moved to sit up.

"No," she murmured sleepily. "Don't go…"

"I have to," he said. "It will be a long day."

Suddenly, Rhae was snapped wide awake as the realization dawned on her. She remembered all too clearly that today was the day they had to come clear with everyone. She did not have the slightest desire to inform the King that they had just blown off the Council's plans for her, no matter how kind her uncle was. And she certainly did not want to face her father with their disobedience. Still, the person she was most afraid of confronting was her sister. She sat up.

"Go back to sleep," Egg said and she gave him an incredulous look. Did he really think she could fall asleep in a day like this?

"Where are you going?"

"I'm going to talk to Father before the meeting of the Small Council… and I'd better go right now, if I want to catch him in time. I don't want to think what's going to happen if he gets to know about that in front of others."

No, Rhae didn't either. She stood up and swayed, her head too light with recent pleasure and Dornish wine. Egg pushed her back. "Are you starting to disobey your husband already?" he joked while he was putting his discarded garments back on.

"I am coming with you," Rhae insisted. "As soon as the world rights itself."

"No, you aren't," Egg said. "You won't go anywhere near Father, Uncle Aerys or anyone. Leave it to me. In fact, I want you to stay here. Lock your door and don't let anyone in until I come back."

"Very well," Rhae said meekly. He was in such a hurry to leave that he did not even spare the time to give her a suspicious look. He placed a quick kiss on her lips and left the bedchamber.

As soon as she heard the fading echo of his steps, Rhae stood up again and went to the window to peek outside. The sky was red. A stormy day was coming. How very appropriate! She stood there, holding the end of the blue velvet curtain, looking at the sky and the fears that kept adding up in her head.

"You have lost all sense of decorum, my lady," Septa Alanna said accusingly upon entering the room. Her sad eyes rested on her former ward. "It was bad enough before when the Prince your brother was sneaking into your room secretly at night but now? Now he comes in and out in broad daylight, as if he is fully entitled to? Half the Red Keep saw him! Have you lost your mind?"

"Good morning to you, too, Septa Alanna," Rhae said without looking at her.

"Ha!" the old woman huffed, trying to chase off the dull pain in her bones. "Not a good morning, my lady. Not a good morning at all. I ask you once again, what follows now? This big knight ruined your brother, he did. The Prince had no idea of dignity and propriety any more."

Rhae bit her retort back. Unfortunately, the septa kept ranting. "I hope you've had the good sense to drink the moon tea regularly. The last thing we need now is for you to go to your wedding to Lord Baratheon already heavy with child."

"Don't worry," Rhae said, turning back, and started to get dressed. The Septa assisted her, looking at her body critically and sighing with relief when she did not find any suspicious new curves. "It won't happen."

"Won't it!" the septa murmured. "So, what follows now, my lady?"

"What ought to happen," Rhae said. "We are telling my lord father."

The fear came back and she added, "I hope he won't take it too hard."

"Ha!" Septa Alanna huffed. "He'll make sure that you and Prince Aegon will never see each other again, you can be sure. As is proper."

This time, her mentor had gone too far. Rhae spun around and gave her a look that made her take a step back, with a silk lace still in her hand.

"Do not presume to teach me what is proper… or what isn't! It is proper for me to love Aegon! And it is proper to have a child with him." She stomped her foot on the floor. "From now on, I won't suffer anyone speaking ill of Aegon or denigrating my relationship with him. Anyone!"

The septa knew only too well where Rhae's patience reached its limit, so she promptly fell silent. Rhae turned troubled eyes at the door. "I hope they'll have time to settle everything before the meeting of the Council."

"They won't," Septa Alanna murmured. "The meeting began at dawn."

* * *

_An hour later…_

The discussion about taxes and dealing with bands of outlaws seemed very short to Egg. He felt as if it had lasted only a few moments before the topic of Rhae's betrothal was brought to attention. That was the moment Egg knew he could not let things progress further. It was bad enough that he had missed the chance to talk to his father and uncle in private. He had to put an end to it now. Everyone in the room, he included, would only be humiliated by any further delay. It was demeaning enough already. By postponing the inevitable, he would only reinforce the notion that his wedding to Rhae was a shameful affair.

So he stood up and looked at the King, pointedly avoiding to meet his father's eyes. He could feel them boring into him, though, along with the eyes of everyone in the room. He thought he could almost tell apart the look of a single eye. _How many eyes does Lord Bloodraven have? A thousand eyes, and one._

"May I speak, Your Grace?" he asked.

Aerys looked surprised. Aegon was not a member of the Council. He had simply slipped in after the meeting had already started and they had let them stay. He was not expected to say a thing.

"Of course," the King said, and Aegon nodded.

"Thank you, Your Grace. I'll try to keep it short and clear. I am in full agreement that we should reward those loyal to the realm. House Baratheon has always done us good service. But I'm afraid this betrothal cannot come to pass. It is impossible."

"Is it so?" the Hand of the King asked, very softly. Whispers glided around the room like small waves.

Egg looked him squarely in the eye. "It is," he said and without waiting for the next question, clarified, "Last night, I wed Rhae in the Great Sept of Baelor."

For once, the chamber was overtaken by complete silence. Every single eye was fixed on Egg who stood with his head held high, not looking at anyone, respectful yet defiant. Even the King had dropped his absent-minded look and stared at his nephew with a stunned look. Egg did not want to imagine what his father's face looked like.

"Is that… legal?" someone finally asked, faintly. Egg did not recognize the voice and he did not turn to look.

"I very much doubt it," the Hand said, sounding almost as if he had regained his composure. Almost. "As far as I can tell, they did not have their father's permission?"

"Right, by the seven hells, they didn't!" Maekar's voice did not sound composed at all. Finally, Egg turned to look at him. His father shrank him with a look.

"The High Septon performed the ceremony," Egg said and hesitated but decided that he should make everything clear now, before the Great Septon did it for him. "And we didn't need permission since Her Grace witnessed our wedding in person."

"Then it is… entirely legal," the Hand uttered. "Still… the Queen?"

"I think we'd better hear everyone now," the King said. Egg had held a hope that he'd brush it all aside and devote himself to his books again but alas, for once his uncle was in a fill royal mode. He raised his voice, "Bring the High Septon in! Immediately. Also, the Queen. Right now!"

The servants eavesdropping at the door ran to obey. Egg looked at his father who averted his eyes, then his uncle who did the same. Egg pressed his lips together and went at the window overlooking a garden. He stared outside and did not look at anyone anymore.

The High Septon came first. Begging for mercy. His eyes moved from Maekar to Aerys, from Lord Bloodraven to Egg who finally turned away from the window and gave him a dispassionate look.

"So, it _is_ true," Maekar said, looking disgustedly at the holy man.

"They forced me… the Queen forced me, Your Grace…" he screamed frantically.

"Indeed, I did," Aelinor's voice came.

She stood at the door, the perfect lady, supremely elegant and magnificently attired in black and red. At her shoulders, the dragons gleamed. A crown shone in her silver hair. The crowd that had gathered at the door parted for her. Disgruntled, Egg noticed Aerion amidst the onlookers. He really should have expected that. Aerion did have a foreboding about other people's misery. He basked in it. Especially if it was his siblings' misery.

The Queen entered the chamber and with never failing grace curtsied to the King, then looked at Egg and then Maekar, her face carefully schooled to betray nothing.

"They had my blessing," she said. "And they still do. I beg you to give them yours, as well."

Both Aerys and Maekar stared at her, not believing what they heard. Strangely, Aerys was the one who first regained his speech. "My blessing?" he shouted - something that he never did. " _My blessing?_ After the three of you made me and this Council play the fools?"

From the door, Aerion grinned. Egg made a point not to look at him. If he got into a quarrel with his brother, it would help nothing. He noticed, though, that the crowd was growing by the moment, gaining more and more familiar faces. Not Daeron, though: even he could not have gotten drunk this early but no doubt he had come down with one mysterious illness or another that would prevent him from witnessing his siblings' public humiliation.

"I regret this," Aelinor said calmly. "I do. But it is all over. It will be better if…"

"Is is?" Maekar cut her off. "It might not be too late…"

"It is," Egg spoke for a first time after his stunning revelation. "Our marriage is indissoluble, in gods' eyes and the eyes of people. And," he added pointedly, "it was consummated."

Everyone gasped at his audacity. He smiled a little, glad to have stunned them into silence no matter the circumstances. His smile died, though, when he saw Daella between the spectators, her face paler than her gown. He made a step towards her and she shook her head and stepped back so fast that she bumped into one of the Queen's ladies in-waiting. He opened his mouth to say something, although he did not know what, but his father beat him to it.

"So, the three of you went to the Great Sept and basically disobeyed His Grace's wishes and mine. Was there another accomplice? Aemon, perhaps? He tends to keep himself well informed. Did he take part in this… feat of yours?"

Tongues started wagging anew. Aerion's grin widened at the perspective of another brother falling out of grace. Aelinor shook her head. "As long as I know, Aemon has nothing to do with this."

"Aemon didn't know a thing," Egg cried angrily. "Leave him out of this!"

"I shall talk to Aemon," Aerys said. "Seeing how all of them readily confess what they did, I suppose he'll do the same… if he has anything to confess at all."

"He doesn't, Your Grace," Egg assured him.

"I am glad to hear it," the King said coolly. "You, on the other hand, will have the chance to consider whether you have anything else to confess… in the solitude of your room. Take him!" he ordered to the Kingsguard. Looking decidedly uncomfortable, the Lord Commander walked towards Egg.

"Just a moment, please, Your Grace," Egg said and made a step towards the door. "Daella, I want to talk to you. Please."

She shook her head, silently. She was not crying – she was probably too stunned to. A bright gown in the corridor behind her caught his eye. Rhae. What was she doing here? He had told her to keep to her room!

"Daella," she spoke and Egg heard the faint of despair in her voice. "Please, let's talk."

"Dhaella," Aerion said. "Now it isn't the time to be faint-hearted."

Despite his best intentions to ignore Aerion, Egg could not keep his composure.

"Don't be faint-hearted, Daella, don't be human!" he flared up. "Follow the lead of your brother Aerion who doesn't know what love it. His heart is full only of hatred and malice. Do you think he cares about you? If it's up to him, he'll have me beheaded personally. He hates me, he hates you too, he hates all of us."

Aerion smirked. "I suggest you use the time you'll have in your chambers to think of how to make amendments to the Seven for desecrating their sept."

"Oh they will forgive my transgressions, but they won't make a man out of you, least of all a dragon," Egg shot back. "I warn you, brother, don't you dare fill Daella's head with your malice while I'm away. And stay away from Rhae."

"Or else?" Aerion challenged.

Maekar had had enough.

"Shut up! Both of you!" he snapped. "Or you'll keep each other company for the next few months!"

Aerion bit back his next retort. Egg turned his back to all of them. Rhae finally entered the room and went to him. He stroked her cheek gently, bowed to the King and Queen and motioned to the Lord Commander that he was ready to go.

He left the Council chamber to the echo of sparse whispers accompanying the echo of his own steps.


	7. Chapter 7

_Three days later…_

Aerys sat in his chair, resting his elbow on the armrest. Aelinor stood next to him, magnificently attired and bedecked with jewels that contrasted with the hard expression on her face. She was considered one of the reasons for the disaster and since Aegon was imprisoned in his rooms and Rhae was so young, Aelinor had taken a good part of the blame. Maekar stood opposite to her, near the window. He was very careful not to look at his sister, she was reluctant to meet his eye, too.

In the far corner of the room, the King's Hand, Brynden Rivers, looked entirely composed. Since the day was dark, he was not wearing his hooded cloak and was, in fact, dressed very simply, in black tunic and breeches that made his white hair and winestain birthmark stood out even more than usual.

Near the King, a young slender maester stood unobtrusively. His eyes did not miss a thing, he could almost physically detect the rising tension in the room. The last few days had been rife with family quarrels and wild accusations on both sides. Maekar and Aelinor's had been heard by everyone in the Red Keep. At the end, he had made her weep. Uncommon for him, Maekar had not been moved by her tears. Even crying, she had insisted that she had done the right thing and that angered him even more.

Aerion had come, too, even though he hadn't been summoned. But the mood in the chamber was such that no one dared tell him off – even the slightest collision could cause an explosion.

"So?" the King finally asked. "Was it confirmed?"

"Yes, it was," Aemon said. "Two maesters and two midwives examined Rhae. The marriage was consummated, I have no doubt."

He did not dare look at his father and uncle, nor his aunt. He had no wish to look upon Aerion, so he settled on looking at Bloodraven who gave him a small smile. It was not a smile of contentment and neither was it a smile of irony. It was a discreet suggestion that they should take things the way they were. There was no use of regret and rage. Aemon returned the smile. He and the King's Hand had not had interacted much but Aemon appreciated Bloodraven's ways and talents. He only wished his father, too, were able to appreciate them. The Seven Kingdoms would benefit from this.

"And was the consummation a fresh one?" Aerion asked mildly. "Or… not so fresh?"

Aemon stiffened. _This snake_ , he thought but kept his voice even and calm, "I have no idea. And I never thought to ask."

"One wonders…" Aerion said.

"Then one wonders too much," Maekar said sharply. He had no desire of knowing just for how long Aegon and Rhae had been carrying out this affair of theirs, defying him and their responsibilities. He feared that if he did, his rage might prompt him into doing something he'd regret till the end of his days. He had one of these already and it still gave him nightmares, years after the misshap.

"It is final, then," the King said. "We cannot do a thing to dissolve the marriage. Not that Lord Baratheon would have accepted my niece as a great prize anyway. Not after the scandal. No, they are married and they will stay married. The problem is, what are we going to do about the disobedience? Aegon and Rhae disobeyed both their father and me very publicly. We cannot let this pass, it would mean the setting of a very bad precedent. So, what am I to do?"

"Prison," Aerion suggested. "Till the end of their days. So they have the time to realize the faultiness of their ways."

Aerys shook his head. Bloodraven gave a sardonic smile.

"Out of question," Maekar snapped.

"Lord Rivers?" the King asked.

Bloodraven took his time to answer. His eyes were distant, pondering over different options.

Finally, he sighed. "I suggest we downplay the Princess' part in the whole affair," he said. "She would be presented as a weak woman led astray by the Prince. No one will be too stunned. This way, we'll only have Aegon to worry about."

Aemon fought the mad desire to laugh. Rhae, a weak woman led astray by the strong man? No one who knew them would even believe such a blatant lie. Fortunately, the Seven Kingdoms were not full of people who knew them. As insulting to Rhae's will and wits Bloodraven's proposal was, it might just work.

"I think the Hand's suggestion wise," Aelinor said. Maekar only gave a short nod.

"What about Aegon?" Aerys asked. "I am inclined to give them full pardon but as we already said, that would mean setting up a bad precedent. A hefty fine, maybe?"

Maekar looked through the window, then looked at his brother, still deep in thought. 'Everyone knows they don't have anything of their own," he said. "You can impose the fine, of course, and I will pay it but it will be obvious that they have suffered no repercussions at all."

"And what of that?" Aelinor asked. "Is it really this awful to let it be known that you are paying the fine for your children's transgressions?"

"So now there is a transgression," Maekar snapped. "I thought it was just a deed of love and we should all accept and applaud it?"

"You're the one who calls it a transgression," Aelinor shot back. "I was just trying to use concepts you'd understand."

"Stop it!" Aerys cut them off. "I won't have the two of you arguing again. You can squabble all you want at your private chambers or in any hall you want but in my office you will control yourselves!"

They glared at him but fell silent.

"Thank you," Aerys said, switching back to his pleasant tone. "Your advice, Aemon?"

"A man who has broken traditions and authority," Aemon said, careful to not choke on the words, "should be stripped of the chance to enjoy the privileges that come with them. And the people of Westeros should know about the sentence, so it would be known that the punishment of the king's son or nephew is harder than the one of a butcher's son."

"True enough," Aerys said and felt a fleeting regret that this boy would never inherit the throne. Of all the Targaryens around, he would have ruled the kingdom best.

* * *

_A few hours later…_

The knock at the door made Rhae sit up sharply in her bed. She opened her mouth to tell them off but thought better and stayed silent. It was better that whoever was in front of her room thought she was asleep. But then the door slowly went ajar and then opened, right in front of her disbelieving eyes.

She stood up, infuriated. It seemed that since the revelation about her marriage, everyone had decided that she was fair game to disobedience and humiliation. "Listen, Septa Alanna," she started angrily. "If you think you can come in when I said I wanted no one…"

But neither of the figures at the door were her septa. She tried to swallow but her mouth had suddenly gone dry. The man softly closed the door behind them.

"How could you do this to me?" Daella started immediately without bothering to sit up. "Bedding my betrothed behind my back and not bothering to tell me that you have _married_ him? Or am I thinking things in the wrong order? You were carrying out an affair with him, weren't you? It didn't just happen five days ago when the two of you realized you couldn't live without each other."

Rhae nodded silently.

"You've been having an affair with him for months?" Daella asked, quite stunned.

"Years," Rhae whispered. "I haven't bedded him all this time," she added quickly, as if that amended all.

"So you had time to think of another way to make it work and your best approach was… this?"

"Sometimes, it happens," Aemon said. "Especially when people are scared. They make the worst decisions possible. Ask me how I know."

"We didn't tell you because we didn't want to hurt you, Daella," Rhae said. "And we ended up hurting you worse than we would have otherwise. I am so sorry."

"Yes, that helps _immensely_ ," Daella retorted.

Rhae hid her face in her hands.

"I didn't want it to happen like this," she said. "We… we just didn't know what to do."

Daella laughed, loud and angrily. "You seemed to know exactly what you were doing, skulking in the Great Sept like thieves…"

"But it was urgent!" Rhae whispered. "My betrothal would have been announced the next day and we didn't know it. We thought we had time…"

"Time for what?" Daella retorted. "For carrying out your great romance? No doubt you lost your senses when he first kissed you," she mocked.

"Oh they all rushed in my head. They got extremely hightened," Rhae said seriously, blissfully even.

Daella looked at her incredulously. "What's the matter with you?" she asked. "Are you drunk?"

Rhae laughed. "No, just full of poppy milk. They poured a whole ewer into me to do things to me. Two women and two men who put their hands where they didn't belong. And a brother who just held me down and didn't do anything to help." She glared at Aemon. "Do you happen to know him?"

He flushed. "They had to do it, Rhae. These were the King's orders. And you wouldn't cooperate. This was the mildest way for you, otherwise they might have hurt you."

She gave a sound that was something between a laugh and a sob.

"What?" Daella asked. "What are you talking about?"

And they told her, and she felt nauseous and sat down on Rhae's bed.

"There is more to it," Aemon said. "The King has decided to declare your marriage valid, Rhae. But there will be repercussions… for Aegon."

Then, he told them what these repercussions would be and she sat down next to Daella, unable to comprehend what she heard.


	8. Chapter 8

_The next day…_

The veil of doom was all over the Red Keep. No one dared say something, lest they attract a Targaryen's notice. These days, notice meant anger.

The day was dark and unpleasant. The sun was nowhere to be seen. The only people Rhae encountered were servants and, very rarely, a noble lord or lady who bowed, averting their eyes.

Rhae lifted her chin up. She wouldn't show weakness to anyone. Still, it was depressing to think that the Red Keep must have looked like this through the blasted Spring Sickness.

She headed for the stables where she was met with more bows and averted eyes. This saddened her further, the thought that she was unwelcome here, when only a week ago, she had been a constant presence here with her Lightfoot.

"Prepare Lightfoot for a ride," she ordered, and the stableboy looked at her uneasily.

"Are you going on a ride, my lady?"

She raised her eyebrows. "Of course. What, is there an order that I should not be allowed to?"

He blushed. "No… no, my lady, of course not."

"Then prepare her," she commanded. "I'll be waiting in the yard."

"Are you sure it is the wisest move to go out?" a familiar voice asked and Rhae bristled, ready to fight.

"Since when have you become my mentor, brother dear?" she asked.

Aerion smirked, taking in her green riding gown, the string of pearls on her neck and the deep violet shadows under her eyes. Her cheeks were sunken and yellowish.

"Well, Father seems to think you cannot be trusted to make decisions for yourself," he said.

'If he has appointed you my guardian, I want to hear it from him," Rhae cut him off. "I'll be outside," she said to the grooms and went past Aerion, to the vast space of the yard.

Unfortunately, he followed her.

"Have you had any visitors lately?" he asked. "I wanted to pay you a visit, to make you feel less lonely now that your husband is… detained… elsewhere. Unfortunately, I couldn't get to you."

"These were my orders," she said and looked at him with her hands on her hips. "I prefer to keep chosen company and you do not make the list."

He laughed. "We'll see how long it will last. Aegon is nowhere near to being released and the rumours have it that you… let's say your riding a mare is said to be subpar to your zest in riding… mounts."

Rhae gasped and swiped at him but he pushed her hand aside. Furiously, she yanked it free and lashed at him again.

This time, Aerion caught her hand and held it in his left. He raised his other hand and hit her with such force that Rhae fell to the ground. Aerion bent down and caught her by the hair.

"No!" someone yelled. "Rhae! No! Let her go!"

Aerion got her to her feet, holding her by the hair, escaping her attempts to strike and kick him. The next moment, his hands were about her throat, choking the breath out of her.

"No!" Aemon shouted again and came running, holding what he could find – a wooden block. "Let her go, you scoundrel! Don't you dare touch her!"

He landed the block in Aerion's back once, twice. "Let her go!"

Aerion jumped aside and took his sword out, aiming for his brother's face. "You'll get your due, too, because I am fed up with all of you!"

Daella came running towards them and stood frozen, horrified. Aerion aimed a blow at Aemon's eyes but he caught the blade with his bare hand. "Let go!" he yelled, and tried to pull the sword from Aerion's hand, not noticing that his own was bleeding heavily.

Aerion poked again, this time against Aemon's cheek. He barely managed to turn his head aside, still gripping the blade.

"Aerion!" Daella screamed and everyone instinctively turned toward her.

She flung the water from the nearest bucket straight in Aerion's face. Out of instinct, he flung his hands back, looking at her with an expression of utter astonishment. She bared her teeth. She looked like a witch, with her black hair falling wildly.

Then, she threw the bucket at him and jumped him, pushing him backwards. Aemon and Rhae who was still holding her throat, ran for them and the next moment, Aerion was on his back, crushed under three pairs of arms hitting and pummeling and three pairs of legs kicking. To his honour, he gave them some back.

"What's going on here!"

They registered their father's voice and Daella jumped back… not to apologize but simply to get a better aim for her kicks because as it was, Rhae was in the way…

"Why are you standing like graven images?" Aerys exclaimed. "Separate them!"

Daella fought and kicked, splattering the white Kingsguard cloak with mud. The knight looked helplessly at Maekar. "Hold her!" the Prince barked. "Everyone, stop it, do you hear me! Daella, stop!"

They heard; they just didn't want to obey. It was harder to pull out Aemon but finally, he was put next to his struggling sister, his arms pinioned, Ser Roland Crakehall looking with concern at the blood gushing from the boy's hand.

While Ser Willem Wylde was pulling her back, Rhae tried to aim a final punch at Aerion but the knight carried her off. "Calm down, little princess," he said, still stunned. He hadn't seen such a scene in the royal family since Daemon Blackfyre and Aegor's Bittersteel's fights with Prince Baelor and Prince Maekar, well before the official beginning of the rebellion.

"That's enough!" Maekar shouted. "Calm down. That's enough. Daella, for gods' sake! What are you looking at?" he suddenly asked and followed his brother's gaze… right to the purple bruise on Rhae's cheekbone and the ten fingers clearly imprinted at the sides of her neck.

Aerion had just gotten on his feet when his father's fist sent him back right where he had been.

* * *

_A few hours later…_

"I wish you could have seen him, Egg. The wretched scoundrel!"

"I imagine," Egg said, an expression of bliss on his face. "This will do."

They both laughed and moved closer to each other on Egg's bed, as they had done when children and sharing secrets. "And then," Aemon continued. "Daella yelled that things cannot go on this way. _Choose, Father_ , she said. _It's either him or us!_ "

Egg almost choked. Daella being this brave? The kind Daella? "And then what?" he asked. "What did Father say?"

"He was so livid that he seemed willing to solve the matter upon the spot, with Aerion's blood. But before he could say something, Uncle Aerys took charge. He said we should all calm down and deal with the problem. Rhae exclaimed that while Aerion was in the Red Keep, nothing can be dealt with. It was obvious we couldn't live under one roof with Aerion, she said, and that was why either he would leave, or we would. Otherwise, we would risk killing one another, she cried out."

Egg's eyes went wide. Fratricide was a topic that was never brought up in their father's presence. He listened with horrified fascination what Aemon had yet to say.

" _Yesterday, we quarreled,_ I exclaimed. _Today, we fought. What will happen tomorrow?_ _Things might get worse! Please, Father, please! Uncle, a decision should be made,_ I said _._ At this point, they all looked at me and Father asked, _Why are you here, Aemon? Go and get this wound dressed. 'No way_ , I said. _I'll wait until enough blood flows to cleanse the touch of this thing's sword…'_ "

It was hard but Egg managed to take a breath and stared at his brother. "You didn't say it!"

"I did. Then, Aerion said it was easy for us to threaten that we'd leave because we'd do it anyway – Rhae would go with you, Daella would wed Baratheon and I'd leave too. _Yes_ , I said. _Yes, if you stay here, I won't have a choice and I'd run all the way to the Wall if I must because I can't stand you, Aerion…_ "

"Oh no!"

"Oh yes! So, after all was said and done, Aerion is leaving for Summerhall."

Egg winced. "Poor Daeron…"

"Poor Daeron indeed…"

Aemon became serious. "Now," he said. "Let's talk about you."

* * *

_Two days later…_

"Don't touch me!" Egg said. "I'll go on my own…"

The gold cloaks looked at each other, then looked at their captain and finally, at Ser Willem Wylde.

"Tie him," the knight ordered. "These are the King's orders."

Egg nodded. "The King's orders… I see. What are they going to do with me, Ser Willem?"

The Kingsguard did not answer. "You can't tell me?"

Ser Willem came to check the ropes. "I am sorry, little prince," he said, almost inaudibly. "Stay strong."

Not surprisingly, these encouraging words did not do much for Egg's strength.

They loaded him up into a horse cart with a bundle of hay and distinctive stench of horse piss. Even the corresponding wetness was there. Egg held his head up, refusing to acknowledge the conditions.

They brought him to the square in front of the Great Sept of Baelor. It was filled with people – five, ten thousand, more… And there was a wheel of torture. Egg's eyes went wide at the sight of the two men with whips. Aemon had warned him but this? Surely his father and uncle did not mean…? Not in front of the populace?

They took his clothes off, leaving him only his breeches. He went for the wheel alone, his eyes inevitably drawn to the crowd on tribunes high above him. King Aerys looked sad. Queen Aelinor was very pale in her dark velvet gown. Next to her, Daella was shaking. Maekar looked calm but his hands betrayed him. Only the effort not to grip them together could keep them this still. Aemon was looking straight at Egg, trying to encourage him. Aerion was not here – obviously he had already been packed off to Summerhall. Rhae was not here either and that was good – for a moment, Egg had thought that they might have forced her watch.

They tied him to the wheel and spun it round. Sky and earth started spinning, human faces also started spinning.

The fist whip came down when the wheel was lowering him down. The second – when it was lifting him up. Egg gritted his teeth, concentrated on one thing and one thing only: that he wouldn't scream. He wouldn't, he wouldn't, he wouldn't…

He woke up back in his horse cart. His back was burning, his feet were burning too, he wouldn't be able to walk for days. Somewhere from the sky someone was reading: "By His Grace's will… Prince Aegon… breaking the custom and the royal authority… committed a crime for which he was whipped… But lest someone thinks that the King of Westeros scorns the Faith's rules and love between spouses, he acknowledges the marriage between Prince Aegon and Princess Rhae Targaryen… and grants wine to the people…"

Everyone cried out. A rumbling started – the carts with the huge barrels were coming. But Egg was listening intently for the end of the sentence. Aemon had told him what it would be but not how long it would last. "For breaking the customs, though, Prince Aegon and Princess Rhae will be exiled from King's Landing for three years. For this period, they cannot enjoy the privileges of their birth and no lord or lady of the land is allowed to acknowledge them as royal blood…"

Egg closed his eyes. It could have been much worse. Three years would pass quickly.

Around him, people were already drinking. A gold cloak lowered a ewer over Egg's cart. That was the beginning of the wedding feast.

* * *

_Two weeks later…_

It was still dawn when the two figures headed for the gates of the Red Keep. They were simply dressed in black, leading only a brown horse and a gentle mare with them. They had almost no money or possessions about them, save for what Aemon had given them. Those of the servants who knew they'd leave today had gathered on windows and doorways to see them off.

From the window of the presence chamber, Aelinor also watched, her eyes brimming with tears that would stay unnoticed in the faint light. As if they knew she was there, both Egg and Rhae turned back and looked at her. She waved at them and they waved back. Then, she felt a hand on her palm. She didn't need to look back to know it was Maekar, although she had not expected him. She squeezed back just as tight and silently leaned her head against his shoulder, relieved beyond measure that he had chosen not to press the matter of her own involvment in the whole affair.

Suddenly, Daella came running through a side door, cried her siblings' names, pressed them both in a quick hug. They both clung back. She passed them a pouch that Egg was tempted to refuse but then looked at Rhae and thought better. He was used to living on the way. She was not. She was strong-willed and of heathy constitution but she didn't know a thing about the life of wanderers. She had only ever been taught to be a princess.

He looked at Daella and she shook her head to stop him from talking. "I still haven't forgiven either of you," she said. "It's just… take care of each other, you hear?" she said and headed back inside. They looked after her until she disappeared from sight.

"Will we ever come back?" Rhae asked when they were near the last gate.

"We will," Egg said.


	9. Chapter 9

_A year later…_

"I can't go on," Rhae moaned faintly.

Egg looked at her, then back at the winding pass. "We must go on, Rhae. We can't stop."

Rhae shook her head. "I cannot go on anymore, Egg. I think I'll pass out!"

Her face resembled wax, her eyes were full of fear. Egg grabbed Lightfoot's rein and urged her forward, ordering Wilding the same thing with his knees. Rhae could barely stay in her saddle, so he was careful to support her as best as he could.

Behind them, the echo of galloping hooves became louder. Terrified, Rhae made an effort to urge Lightfoot but the poor mare was already straining her strength. Rhae's heavy body impeded her and she could not turn back. But she could hear that their pursuers were close – for the last few months, she had become adept at recognizing such noises.

Egg leaned from his saddle and turned back, completely unsurprised when he spotted the black portcullis grind over sand, the arms of House Yronwood. He was surprised even less to see that Lord Yronwood was among the men in person.

"Stop!" a voice shouted. "Stop right now! Stay where you are!"

They did not stop. Egg's hand went to the hilt of the sword he'd need to draw out as soon as the pursuers circled them… and it was only a matter of minutes.

Rhae's hands were white against the reins.

Suddenly, someone appeared in their path. A rider. A tall man on a fierce stallion. Both man and horse were dripping sweat. Behind him, a few more men were drawing their blades out.

The man looked at Egg and Rhae and his eyes widened although he gave no other indications of surprise. Had he recognized them? Egg did not recall ever having seen him. He ordered Widling to stop and Rhae did the same. There was no use of running anymore. They were cornered.

Egg dismounted and immediately went to help Rhae do the same. Their pursuers caught up with them. A few of the men leered at the young woman's artificially dark hair and huge belly. Even in this state and shabbily dressed, she was beautiful. Egg had had to fend men off in a good number of the strongholds they had passed through. Truth be told, Rhae had quickly adapted a few tricks of her own to that effect.

Not that any of this mattered now. _At least, there will be no danger to our bodily safety,_ Egg thought. Many of the lords they had run into had wanted to use them – but no one would ever think of harming them. It would have taken a very foolish lord indeed, to do such a thing.

"What's going on here?" the man on the stallion asked.

"This is no concern of yours, Sand," Lord Yronwood snapped. "They were trespassing through the Boneway."

The man looked at him, feigning incredulity. He was only a few years older than Egg, a salty Dornish who looked slightly annoyed. "And that merits the Warden of Stone Way chasing them in person… how?"

"This is no concern of yours," Lord Yronwood snapped. He was about fifty, a man who had spent his entire life in battles. Fighting for the Black Dragon as of last, as long as Egg remembered.

The young man, however, was none too impressed. "It is a great concern of mine," he assured. "Everything is a concern of mine. Especially if there is a woman with child, hunted like an animal in Dorne. My father will not take kindly to that."

Lord Yronwood snorted and placed a hand at the hilt of his sword. His men did the same.

The young man simply raised his eyebrows and motioned to his companions to stay still.

"Would you dare?" he asked coldly. "Would you dare lay a hand upon me? Are you really this stupid to think that such a thing can stay a secret?"

Lord Yronwood hesitated. Then, without saying a word, he rode off with his men. Rhae sagged against Egg and her head almost swam with relief.

"How?..." Egg started to ask but the young man shook his head.

"Quick," he said. "Before Yronwood changes his mind. He's still Bittersteel's man."

Egg drew a hand across his shaven head. Lately, it had not been much help in disguising his identity. And traveling incognito with Rhae – especially after she told him that she was with child – was not as fun as traveling with Ser Duncan. Being constantly on alert, being responsible for someone else – well, he could now understand why Ser Duncan had been cross with him sometimes. For all her best intentions, Rhae could not help but inadvertedly give away clues to their identity, much as Egg had done. And when he told her that, she got angry and they fought. Frequently, one lord or another tried to detain them – despite currently having fallen out of favour with their family, they were still Targaryens and they'd make good hostages against the Iron Throne… or even better pawns in Bittersteel's hands. They needed a place to rest and recover their strength.

It had to end.

* * *

_Five days later…_

As a child, Egg had been at Dorne, along with Ser Duncan. But he never been at Sunspear and he was stunned to see that it was not a city at all, not the way King's Landing was, low and widely spread. They had come through the Threefold Gate but Egg could see miles of alleys and busy bazaars.

He had been at such a bazaar when he had first heard the news about the quickly named Spring Sickness. He still remembered his horror and incredulity at listening to the news about his grandfather and his cousins, his fear whether the others were safe and healthy. Aemon had been at Oldtown, the others at Summerhall. But he had not known it then. And Dorne's isolationist policy meant that no further word had come until the end of the plague, giving him months of sleepless nights worrying whether he still had a family to return to.

Rhae touched his hand. "What's wrong?" she asked.

He shook his head and smiled. "Nothing."

His concern was growing, although he tried to rein it in. He did not fear that the Martells would detain them. Maron Martell was a steadfast supporter of the Targaryens. But that meant he could take their verdict literally. He could banish them from Dorne – and they would find themselves stuck. Rhae would give birth in less than three moons – and she was obviously not one of those lucky women who were healthy, bright and cheerful till the end. She didn't need more travels and unrest. She needed a place to rest. There was no way she could tolerate a new travel through the Red Mountains – and a ship was out of question. Even if they could fly, they would have had trouble finding a place where people were not afraid of the King's wrath – as if Aerys would really want for his niece to give birth in a ditch like a stray cat! No one would take them in if they found out who they were – and people usually found out. If they didn't, they still wouldn't take them in – no one wanted strangers, one of them a woman with child who was of no use at all.

They were now in the Old Palace.

The fact that they were accompanied by Alor Sand was the only reason they could pass by the guards who looked with suspicion at their hooded faces and bowed heads. Alor led them through a wide court, up a winding staircase, through a long gallery with a ceiling of glass and finally, through a great oak door that led into the family's private chambers.

"Where is everyone?" Alor asked the first servant they encountered. "I must talk to my lord father immediately."

The man bowed, not looking at Alor's companions. "The Prince is in the Tower of the Sun, dealing with matters of…"

"I see," Alor said. "Well, we won't disturb him, then. What about the Princess?"

"She is in the library with the children."

Alor nodded. "Very well. Let's go."

Egg and Rhae followed him, slightly perked up at being between stone walls that kept the hear at bay… a little.

"What if they refuse?" Rhae asked, very softly.

"Don't think about such things. They won't," Egg said and tried to believe his own words.

The library was a vast room with more books than they had expected – huge shelves lining the walls, thick leather-cased volumes. The high windows were opened, the curtains fluttered from the breeze that did little to disperse heat.

Daenerys Martell stood in front of a table. They had not seen her in many years but she was impossible not to recognize, a Targaryen through and through. Of course, she was no longer young but she was still beautiful, very regal… and not looking like a woman who had provoked a war because she had been in love at all. She was looking at a map of the Seven Kingdoms and explaining something to three children – all dark-haired and olive-skinned. The oldest was about fifteen and the youngest eight or ten.

"No," she was saying. "No, there were _seven_ kingdoms. Kingdoms of the Vale and Sky, Kingdom of the North, Kingdom of the Rock…"

"Kingdom of the High Horse," Alor cut in and four heads turned simultaneously.

"Alor!" Daenerys exclaimed and hurried to him. "Alor, where have you been a whole year? We were already setting up a mourning!"

"I want to see him, too!" the youngest girl exclaimed and jumped at Alor at the same moment her mother opened her arms for him.

"I am happy to see you too," he said and embraced them. To the boys, he gave only a grin. "I am sorry it took me so long to return. It's good to be home."

For Egg and Rhae who had been standing unobtrusively at the door, watching the cheerful welcome, his last words were like a cold wind, like a tub of icy water. They were so far away from home when they needed it most.

"I've brought someone to you, my princess," Alor said formally, and Daenerys looked at him, surprised. Then, she noticed the newcomers and her confusion grew.

"I met them by chance," Alor said softly. "Lord Yronwood was trying to capture them."

Egg and Rhae took their hoods off and made a step forward. She stared at them, shocked. "Aelinor?" she asked uncertainly.

The young woman shook her head. "Rhae," she whispered.

Daenerys took herself in hand. "Rhae," she said. "Of course it will be Rhae. I take it Lord Yronwood was not simply been… insistent… in offering his hospitality?"

The look in their eyes told her everything she needed to know. They had been hunted down like animals by one lord and chased away by another, trying to find a place in a world that did not want them, except for taking advantage of them. _It must have been even harder when she started to show_ , Daenerys thought and for a moment almost laughed at the idea that Aerys would actually _want_ Rhae to be deprived of any compassion and care at the hardest moment in her life.

Rhae couldn't find it in herself to answer questions.

"We just don't have anywhere to go," she said simply and her face crumpled.

Daenerys looked at her, examined her state and made her decision.

"Well, you do, now" she said and embraced her. She felt how the younger woman relaxed against her, lightheaded with relief. "Now you do, my dear," she said again and nodded at Egg to come and take Rhae before she collapsed.


	10. Chapter 10

_Two months later…_

The storm came without warning. Aelinor did not feel good, so the royal family took their dinner in her private chambers, away from the noise and smells of the great hall, cutting off the fifteen courses to five and the flattery to a conversation that sometimes dropped to nothing but was otherwise calm and uninhibited.

"We should do it more often," Aerys said. "Honestly, I can't remember the last time the five of us had a dinner together alone. It would have been before Daemon decided that he wanted the crown… I doubt he knew how uncomfortable it was, really."

"There aren't five of us," Maekar said, almost inaudibly.

Aerys was stunned, having belatedly realized his mistake. Aelinor glared at him and for a moment, looked at Maekar with aching tenderness. Rhaegel closed his eyes. It was true, when young, the five of them had treasured the very few chances they got to dine together alone, far away from families, court and politics. But time had changed everything and besides, there weren't five of them any more. Baelor was no longer.

It was just an accident, a word spoken out of habit, much like the mishap Maekar's blow had been. But it hung among them heavily. They could no longer look at each other.

"Ah well," Rhaegel finally said. "I can certainly see your point. I like knowing the faces of my table-companions and in the Red Keep, these folks keep changing from dinner to dinner. Meal to meal, even."

Aelinor smiled at him gratefully. This evening, Rhaegel did not look mad at all. For first time in weeks, he was neatly dressed and trimmed, his typical Targaryen good looks shining through the gauntness of his face. His eyes were the thing that looked most changed, though. Her heart leapt with joy at seeing that today, there was life in them.

"Do you remember how we used to hide in the shadows in the gallery and aim balls of bread at them when they were passing for the banquet hall?" she asked.

"All too clearly," Maekar muttered. "And how Mother caught me once. You were somewhere off for a few minutes when she stormed over me. Ah, the earful I got."

"But you behaved like a true knight, right?" Rhaegel asked. "You didn't sully a lady's reputation?"

Maekar made a face. "I got closely acquainted with Mother's hairbrush… for combing my hair not. But no, I did not involve, um, a lady."

The others looked at each other. At one moment or another, each one of them had learned that their mother had had various ways of using her hairbrushes.

"Well, I once got caught by Grandfather," Aelinor announced. "He looked at me, laughed, said that I was a girl of fire and promised not to tell Mother or my septa…"

Aerys shook his head. A flame of mirth sparkled behind his very weary eyes. "It just figures that you'd get caught by Grandfather who'd think it funny while we'd get Mother and the hairbrush."

Aelinor smiled. "Some of the lords and ladies at court could still use some balls of bread, I think."

"Starting with the King's Hand," Maekar muttered. Aerys and Aelinor both gave him a quick look and he raised his hands in surrender. "Just checking," he said. "I won't try anything like this, I promise," he added with a straight face.

"Careful," Rhaegel said. "Your ghastly secret will be out, brother, if you are not careful. The court might learn that you actually have a sense of humour and then where will you be?"

Aelinor shuddered and dramatically held a hand to her chest. "My heart, please, Rhaegel…"

A discreet knock at the door made them look that way with a distinct feeling of regret. The servants had been instructed not to interrupt them, so the fact that they did probably indicated that their nice evening was over.

"What is it?" Aerys immediately asked before the servant could rise from his bow.

"Your Grace, Princess Daella just arrived in King's Landing… I mean, Lady Baratheon," the man checked himself quickly. "She begs the favour of being received immediately."

Aerys frowned. "Did she? She specifically stated that she wanted to see me?"

"Actually, Lady Baratheon wanted to see her father but she was told that His Grace was here, so she…"

"I understand," Aerys said. "Very well, my beloved niece is always welcome here. Tell her that we can't wait to meet her as soon as she sets a foot in the Red Keep."

When the man left, Aerys looked at Maekar. "Were you expecting her?" he asked.

Maekar shook his head. "I had no idea she had left Storm's End. I don't like the sound of it."

"Oh the sound," Rhaegel said. "It is not to be liked, for sure. It is a ghastly thing. I dreamed of a girl chased by a scream…"

His eyes were wide and full of fear. The decline was sudden and rapid. The entire evening, he had looked calm and sane and now…

"There was darkness," Rhaegel said. "And she was running, running, and the scream was racing her… Something bad will happen. I dreamed of Aegon, our Aegon…The world has gone dark, darker than even before the First Men, if his father and uncle could do something this savage to him…"

Aelinor sighed and vowed again that should she find out who told Rhaegel about Aegon's punishment, she'll make them regret ever having a tongue. They had been so careful not to upset Rhaegel with the ugly side of reality. All for nothing. His declines were now more often and more severe. Still, she had thought… She silently reached for Maekar's hand under the table.

He caught her hand and squeezed it soothingly. He was no less stunned than his sister – and utterly confused. Rhaegel's moments of sharp clarity made the times when madness consumed him even more insufferable. And now, Daella… Whatever had brought her here could not be good news.

Aerys stood up. "Come on," he said to Rhaegel. "I'll bring you to your chambers to rest."

"No, I'll do it," Aelinor said. "I think there's another thing you need to do."

Maekar did not know what she meant but he didn't like the look she and Aerys shared. Rhaegel stood up meekly and followed his sister outside. Whatever waited for them with Daella's arrival, it was not for him to see. He was too… good, too kind. They needed to protect him from the ugly side of life to the best of their ability.

"So?" Maekar asked as soon as Rhaegel and Aelinor left. "What is it?"

Aerys was silent.

"What is it that you are both afraid to tell me? Gods, Aerys, right now I have no tolerance for dancing around the matter."

"Don't I know that," the King murmured and sipped his wine.

Still, he was silent. Maekar waited.

"I've been carrying a letter from Aegon in my pocket for two days now," Aerys finally said. Maekar, who had been crossing the room, froze. "I didn't muster the courage to tell you. He is in Dorne, with Maron and Daenerys, and he will stay for a while. Rhae is with him, she also scrawled a few lines to me…"

Maekar stared at him, his eyes almost black. He now understood why both Aerys and Aelinor had delayed telling him what was going on. The fact that his children had chosen to contact their uncle and not him did not bode well for their relationship in the future.

"May I see the letter?" he finally asked.

"No," Aerys said. His voice was firm but his face betrayed a brief glint of compassion for his hard, proud brother. "The letter was addressed to me."

"I see."

Aerys sighed. "You won't ask me how they fare, will you, Maekar? Well, I'll tell you anyway. They are both fine, from the sound of it. They have had some rough times but it's all in the past now. Dorne agrees with them. They are resting and awaiting the birth of their first child. From what I could gather, Rhae looks as if she's carrying a bear cub."

That was not the smartest thing he had ever said and he regretted it immediately. Naeryne had died giving birth to a child too big for her. It was too late to take it back, though, and if he started to say that nothing like that would happen to Rhae, things would only get worse. Maekar's concern would only grow. And he couldn't do anything to help Rhae. No one could. Aerys silently prayed for a safe delivery, a live mother and child.

Aelinor came back, tired and saddened. "He is calmer now," she said as soon as she entered. She looked as she was about to cry and Maekar did not have the heart to snap at her. "Daella?"

"Still nothing," Aerys said and she took her seat back.

They waited silently.

Finally, she appeared in the doorway, still in her traveling attire, and dropped a low curtsey – as low she could with her bulging belly. As soon as she looked up, they realized that their fears had been justified. Daella's normally serene face was white and terrified, her lips bloodless and bitten all over, her indigo eyes swimming in shadows darker than even them.

"My little one!" Aelinor cried and stepped to embrace her. "What happened to you?"

Daella looked at her and her eyes were suddenly alive with fear that made their hearts stop. "Help me," she whispered. "For gods' sake, help me."

For second time this evening, they were interrupted by a servant. "Lord Baratheon…"

"He is here!" Daella shrieked. "Father! Don't let him in, please…"

"We won't let him in," Maekar promised. "Come here, child. What happened? Why are you here? And has he been… chasing you?"

He caught her chin and forced her to look him in the eye, although she tried to look away. "What happened?"

Something in the way she winced made Aelinor squint at her. "Maekar," she said calmly, "I think we'd better call a maester."

* * *

_A few hours later…_

The Grand Maester looked at Aelinor. "I'd really recommend the potion I mentioned, Your Grace. Her ribs are in a bad way and her insides…"

The Queen shook her head to chase off the waves of pain. "But it is so potent… The baby…"

The old man sighed. "Your Grace," he said softly. "There is nothing that anyone can do about the baby."

The two maid-servants hovering over Daella, who was only half-conscious, started bawling.

"Stop this wailing," Aelinor snapped and looked at the Grand Maester. "Do whatever you need to help her."

She stroked Daella's hair away from her forehead and cursed Lord Baratheon – definitely not under her breath. Why such a thing had happened to Daella? Daella who did not have a violent bone in her body? Like Rhaegel, she was one of the people who were good to the world and expected the world to be good to them. _If someone hits her, she'd only look at them and wonder why_ , Maekar had said once when his children had started showing what their tempers would be like. Aelinor was sickened at how closely he had hit the mark.

Maekar and Aerys were waiting for her in the antechamber. She looked at them. "The babe is dead," she said bluntly because she couldn't bear to beat around the bush. "Has been for weeks. She has not felt its movement since the last beating Baratheon gave her. He killed their child with his fists."

"Damn him," Aerys whispered. "I'll have him quartered for that, I swear."

Maekar, however, kept himself under stoic control. "And what happens now?" he asked.

Aelinor looked aside. "And now, we wait for the birth."

Maekar stared, wondering whether he had heard right. "But… but if the child is dead…"

"It still needs to get out," Aelinor said simply, trying to downplay the cruelty of the situation: Daella would be forced to wait for the labour to start, to go though the pain of childbirth to expel a baby she would have to bury…

Maekar still stared at her, not saying a word. When he came to his senses, they had to stop him from going near Baratheon for five days straight.


	11. Chapter 11

_A few weeks later…_

The air was filled with the aroma of ripe peaches. From time to time, there were noises swimming through the open widows – men talking, women laughing. The world was living anew after the long hard winter of the last few years.

Aelinor stood up. "Do you want to walk with me in the garden?" she asked, trying to ignore the pain in her leg after the sudden change of seasons.

Daella didn't look up from her embroidery. "I'd rather stay here."

Aelinor sighed and motioned to her attendants who left in a flurry of curtsies and hushed voices. When the two of them were left alone, she sat next to her niece and took her hands. "Daella, you haven't left the chambers in ages. You have to take some air. You'll get sick if you go on like this."

Daells shrugged. "I don't feel like walking, Aunt Aelinor. I am so tired."

She did not look well at all. Her fair skin was now a shade of wax, the indigo shadows threatening to swallow her eyes. Her arms resembled sticks, her bones were about to pierce her skin from inside out. The contrast to the round belly looked stark when one knew that there was no life inside.

The Queen stroked Daella's hand. "I know, dear one. But you shouldn't despair. You're so young. You'll have many other chances."

Daella shook her head. The expression in her eyes or rather, the lack of one scared Aelinor. Daella had wanted this chance, this child. Unbidden, the thought came to the Queen's mind: Rhae would have never suffered this, ever. She would have never tolerated Baratheon's rage. She would have probably stabbed him with his own dagger. Not killing him, of course – he was a seasoned warrior. But he would have gotten the message. Unfortunately, Daella was not like this. She had no doubt tried to defend herself but she would never cause harm to someone else even then – it simply wasn't in her. Aelinor had hoped that she'd find a husband who would cherish that in her. But Lord Baratheon was not it.

"I simply want for it to end," Daella said. "Even if it means returning to Storm's End. Gods, how I hate this place!"

Aelinor returned to her own embroidery. "The first time I went there, I was about twelve," she said. "I remember thinking that it was so beautiful. I could practically feel the strength of that place. The strength of storm, the strength of lightning, the strength of thunder. It was so lovely. But it was wild, savage beauty. It wasn't for everyone. I could have lived there, back then. I could have. And the masters of this place were wild like their domain. They weren't for every woman, either. Not that this husband of yours is for any woman," she added. "In all honesty, I was sorely tempted to let your father deal with him accordingly. And your uncle Aerys was talking of the gallows for the populace."

Daella smiled slightly – she could not help herself. Usually, her uncle was the one to curb her father's rage. "And what further?" she asked.

Aelinor looked at the embroidery. It was lovely, of course, for she was always striving for perfection but gods, how she hated this occupation! Then, she looked at Daella.

" _Don't worry, you could have what is left of him,'_ your father said. _'But that's exactly it,_ Aerys replied _. You don't_ leave _a thing when you're done.'_ I must say that I loved both their ideas. And you know what? I think Baelor would have loved them, too."

Daella laughed, then suddenly stopped and looked at her aunt. "I wanted this child so very much," she confessed, spelling it out for the first time. "It would have given me something of my own in a place that was not mine."

There was nothing that Aelinor could say to comfort her. It would be all empty reassurances, so she kept silent. Daella returned to her embroidery.

After a while, there was a knock at the door and one of the Queen's attendants poked her head through the door. Aelinor nodded that she could enter.

"Your Grace," she said. "There is a messenger from Dorne. We told him we'd make sure his message would reach you but he said he's been instructed to speak to you in person."

"From Dorne?" Aelinor repeated and Daella looked up. By now, the word had spread that Egg and Rhae had taken refuge in Dorne and that she was close to her time. It was also well known that the Queen had opposed the idea of their punishment and they were in her good graces, always. She might be the only person in King's Landing they would contact with their news. "Daella, I think you'd better go to rest."

Daella stood up and curtsied stiffly. Under a different set of circumstances, she might have stayed to hear what was going on with her siblings. But not today. Aelinor looked at her heavy painful steps, the belly bulging with death, the back that Daella struggled to keep straight, and felt that her heart would break.

* * *

_A few hours later…_

"Isn't Daella going to join us?" Aerys asked and squinted at Aelinor with his rheumy eyes, as if he expected her to admit that she was hiding their niece under the sofa.

Aelinor was pushing her food all over her plate with no obvious intention of actually eating it. "She is too tired and frankly, anxious by this terrible waiting. I heard she asked the Grand Maester to give her something that would expel the babe immediately."

"Is it… safe?" Maekar asked.

"No," she said. "It isn't. That's why he refused."

Maekar's fists were clenched. Again, Aelinor delighted in the image of these fists landing in Baratheon's face. Of course, they couldn't really allow themselves this pleasure, which was exactly the reason they were having their dinner alone in the King's private chambers. Had they been in the great hall, they would have decide what they should do with Baratheon, where they should place him – at their table or in the black cells. Personally, Aelinor was all for the black cells.

"I'll make sure that she eats," Aelinor promised. "Maekar? Is something the matter? You're giving me a very peculiar look."

"Am I?"

Of course he was. Aelinor stabbed her venison with anger that was pointed towards that villain Baratheon and now, her obstinate brother. He would never acknowledge that he had heard about the Dornishman's arrival. He would never admit that he wanted to know what was going on with Rhae and Egg. For the life of him, he'd never show anyone that he missed them. And of course, he expected that she'd tell him anyway. She always had. She had always been the link between him and the rest of the world whenever he was in one of his dark moods because, truth be told, she felt desperate sympathy towards him for being the way he was, the way his life had passed this far. But now, he was starting to make her more angry than Aerys did and that was no mean feat, for it was much left to be desired of the King as husband. She smiled sweetly at Maekar who looked surprised. Well, he might very well be – it was simply not a part of their routine. Aelinor was so tired of routines to keep everyone satisfied. If Maekar wanted to know what was going on with his children, he'd have to _ask_. She knew he'd never do it, of course…

"No," she said. "I must have seen something that wasn't there."

Maekar looked stunned. Aerys was somewhere off which was a good thing for now. Later, she would tell him the news – and make sure he wouldn't tell Maekar. Aelinor chatted about gossips, about crops and all silly things coming to her mind and took grim delight in looking at Maekar seething. The dinner was almost over when Maekar finally realized that she wouldn't tell him. He suddenly stood up and left without even bothering with the formal bow.

"Is he angry again?" Aerys asked and Aelinor stared at him. Surely even he could not have been carried so far away to miss the undercurrents?

She laughed and laughed until she could laugh no more, until tears sprang to her eyes and finally, mercifully blurred the stunned face of her husband.


	12. Chapter 12

_Two days later…_

It was late in the night when Aelinor finally opened the door to the familiar chambers. In her mind's eye she could still see Naeryn with the newborn Daella in her arms, desperately exhausted and so very happy. She cursed like a soldier when the image blurred, when Daella's face took over her mother's. The way Daella had looked when Aelinor left her not even an hour ago. The dark hair that made her face smaller and thinner. The way it stuck to her cheeks and forehead. The bleak expression in her indigo eyes. The bloodied sheets. The poor thing the maesters had scrambled to take away…

It was dark inside. Only her good knowing of the place helped her avoid the chair that was near the door. But her bad leg almost gave out and she cursed again, desperately trying to keep her balance. She had spent too much time leaning over Daella who refused to let go off her hands, biting at her lips in effort not to scream.

There was a sudden hiss, a candle was lit. In its meager light Aelinor made out Maekar's face. He was sitting on a sofa in the far end of the room and she squinted at him.

"Why are you sitting in the dark?"

"I've got a headache…"

He looked at her. "Is it over?"

She nodded, very cautiously, because her head was too heavy. "The maesters say it went as fine as anyone could hope. She's young and healthy. She will have other children."

"With that husband of hers, it is no sure thing," Maekar spat bitterly. "Is she… well?"

"No," Aelinor said. "But she will be, in time."

She sounded as if she were trying to convince herself. Naturally, she didn't convince him either but there was nothing either of them could do. Maekar stood up and went to her. "You shouldn't be standing," he said. "Come here…"

Then he frowned. "Looking like this? And smelling like this? Aelinor, are you drunk?"

She considered this. She had certainly tried to forget the dark tragedy she had just taken part in but… "I don't know," she said. "I think I am but since I was never drunk before I can't really say. Tell, how does one know when they are drunk?"

He slowly shook his head. "Carrying a bottle with Dornish wine does help to this effect. And from what I see, you've already treated yourself to half of it."

Aelinor looked at the bottle in her hands. "Oh! That's why I came. I took half of this right from the bottle. Then I decided I didn't want to drink alone. Pour us some?"

He wrapped an arm around her waist. She leaned heavily against him.

 _With age, walking becomes harder for her_ , Maekar thought. A horrible image sprang to his mind, a day when she wouldn't be able to walk at all…

He seated her on the sofa and filled two goblets of wine. Aelinor had certainly taken more than her fair share of that and his headache wouldn't get better with it either but for now, everything that kept their minds away from Daella's plea was welcome.

When he handed Aelinor her goblet, he saw that she was crying.

"It was a boy," she said softly. "They said it was perfectly formed for the age he died. But there was this smell. He had started… rotting."

She spoke the last word in a horrified whisper, as if she was revealing a shameful secret. But it was not her who should have been ashamed, it was Daella's bloody husband. The thought that he would not get what he deserved made Maekar sick.

"Please," he said. "Please, I really don't… I really don't think I can hear this tonight."

Aelinor looked at him and thought about what he said. Then, she nodded. "Not tonight," she said.

There was a long silence in which they sipped their wine. Suddenly, Aelinor started shaking. The wine in her goblet spilled over her gown and she tried to put it down but her trembling hands couldn't release it. Maekar took it and placed it on the table.

"Here, here," he said and stroked her hair. "It's all over now. This terrible waiting is over."

She sharply jerked her head back and looked at him. In the faint light of the single candle, her eyes were wide, the purple almost swallowed by the black. They looked Dornish. Like their mother's. Like Rhae's.

"How can you say it's over?" she asked. "How can you be so calm now? Don't you care?"

He looked stunned. He was fully aware that too many people thought he cared for too little things but Aelinor was not one of them. Not until now.

She suddenly caught his hand. "I am sorry," she said. "I know you care. It's just… for god's sake, Maekar, if you can't speak about this, can't you at least cry? She deserves this much, at least."

He shook his head. "That's the thing, Aelinor. I really can't."

She knew it to be the truth and that only made her cry harder.

When she was over, she was having pains in her back for having sitting here for so long. Her head was swimming. Her bad hip was throbbing. There was no way she could return to her chambers like this and if she succeeded, in no time the entire King's Landing would know that the Queen had been in drunken stupor.

Maekar seemed to realize it, too. "I'm giving you my bed for tonight," he said. "Come on."

She stood up and he lifted her up. "I can walk," she protested.

"I am sure," he said. "It's easier this way, though, so keep quiet."

In the solitude of his bedchamber, he undid the laces of her gown and looked aside as she was making herself comfortable in bed. "Sleep well," he said, although he knew her waking would be anything but fine.

"Wait! Where are you going?"

He sighed. "Aelinor, you've taken my bed so I have to find another one."

"But it's so dark here."

He couldn't believe what he heard. Aelinor had overcome her childhood fear of darkness decades ago. But then again, what had taken place this night was nothing short of a nightmare.

"Stay with me until I fall asleep?" she asked.

For a moment, she thought he was trying to find a way to tell her that he didn't like the thought of staying. But then, he sat on the bed and took her hand in his own. She sleepily remembered how strange it was, the way she had been as a child – when she was alone, the world was full of horrors; when she was with the newborn Maekar, they were a force and she wasn't scared for a moment. "I will stay," he said. "I promise."

* * *

_The next day…_

The first thing he noticed when he entered Aelinor's chambers was the cradle. It kept the attention of everyone in the drawing-room, from the ladies in-waiting to the man who stood in front of Aelinor. Maekar spared it a brief glance before looking at his sister and bowing.

"Your Grace, you have called for me," he said.

She looked at him, apparently surprised to see him. Her face was carefully painted, so the signs of her hangover were not obvious. Still, he suspected it was a hell of a hangover. Aelinor had drained almost a whole bottle by herself. "Ah yes," she said. "Please wait until I am over."

Again, he looked at the cradle – shining, and impressive, and gold. "I'll give you an escort," Aelinor was saying. "I want to make sure that this gift will reach them intact and was it known what it is, it would gather you unwanted attention."

The man nodded. "I believe so, Your Grace. You have my word that I'd give this to Lord Aegon and Lady Rhae in person. They will be very grateful, I am sure."

 _So am I_ , Maekar thought. He had noticed the gems that Aelinor had filled it with – dark sapphires, shining emeralds, milky pearls. Tens of handfuls of them, and all of them the finest. Enough for Aegon and Rhae to not depend on Maron and Daenerys, enough for them to live lavishly for years and since this was a gift for the birth of a child, that meant that they had a child, a living child that would be cradled in this royal gift. The relief he felt was so profound that for a moment, the world disappeared.

"Tell me again," Aelinor said. "Tell me about Lady Rhae and her son. I want to hear it once again."

While the man was talking about how Princess Daenerys had invited the highest ranking ladies of Dorne to visit her and they were thus present for the birth of a healthy boy – a happy coincidence, no doubt, since the tradition dictated that any child of any princess of Westeros should be born with the highest ranking ladies in attendance – Maekar looked at Aelinor and smiled at her briefly, gratefully. After a moment of glaring at him – he could not imagine why – she smiled back.

* * *

_Five days later…_

In the end, they resolved the matter in the presence chamber. Aerys sat on the Iron Throne. Aelinor stood next to him, her face darker than her black gown, sewn with lines of pearls. Maekar was on the steps to the throne and the seven Kingsguards were spread in even spaces against the walls. In the darkness near the throne, a glint of silver hair and the cold light of a red eye betrayed the presence of the Kind's Hand, Lord Brynden Rivers. Lord Baratheon could not help but be intimidated. The gold cloaks who had escorted him to the chamber bowed and left.

He was unsure of what to do next. The grim faces of the people in the hall were not exactly encouraging but Baratheons were never the ones to be cowered, so he stepped to the throne and bowed.

"Don't."

Fire and blood, those were the words of the House Targaryen but the people around him were ice – purple eyes the shade of a cold night, fair hair like the snow of the long winter, grim expressions like the sea at Storm's End right before a storm. _Daella did her job well_ , he thought and looked around for her. He did not see her anywhere.

"It's too late to show obedience by bowing," Aerys said. "You had your chance to prove your loyalty by treating my beloved nieces with the respect she so richly deserves. You squandered your chance, so don't try empty gestures."

"Your Grace," the lord of Storm's End said. "It was just a misunderstanding. A family quarrel."

Aerys snorted. "One that you, yet again, decided to settle with fists?" he asked. "Don't try to explain, Lord Baratheon. Daella told me you are used to beating her black and blue. And I believe my niece, not you. The maesters said you've killed your child with the last beating."

"The maesters seem to think they know all there is…"

"That's enough!" Maekar exploded. "Let's be done with it while I still have patience to wait." He took a deep breath and regained control. Then he looked at Lord Baratheon. "I forbid you to lay a hand upon my daughter, ever again," he said evenly. "I forbid you to stop her from leaving your wretched castle and traveling wherever she likes, whenever she likes. Do you hear me?"

Baratheon laughed. "It's my right, Your Grace," he said. "A husband is in full charge of his wife, short of killing or maiming her. That's the law."

"Laws," the Queen mused. "Such fascinating rolls of parchment. As long as I know, according to the law we could demand that anyone who raised a hand to a royal spend the rest of his days in the black cells?"

Baratheon wisely kept silent. Inwardly, he was grateful that he had gotten away so cheaply. He had expected a scandal, a dissolving of the marriage, a campaign of slanders. They were obviously desperate to keep the loyalty of Storm's End and through them – that of a few other prominent Houses. He silently thanked gods for Bittersteel. If Targaryens didn't need him so badly, he might have ended up in the black cells.

Maekar said coldly, "The law does not protect Daella and I know it. However, _I_ will. If you do something like that ever again, if you lock her, beat her and make her unhappy, in general, we will obliterate your House, my lord. Storm's End will be given to another House, thus raising it to prominence." He gave the younger man a piercing look. "The House Baratheon will be no more."

The young lord looked stunned and went pale. He knew that they could do it, of course. They would not risk losing Storm's End support for no better reason than a past event that could not be mended. But they could erase the House Baratheon if Daella came running to them, crying that he had beaten her. For gods' sake, what was wrong with her anyway? Why was it that she never fought back?

"Yes, Your Grace," he said miserably.

"I place no trust in you and that's why I am sending Ser Ronal with you to Storm's End."

Baratheon looked at the Kingsguards and tried to find out who Ser Ronal was.

"He will report to me regularly. Daella will be free to come and go as she pleases. You won't stop her and won't abuse her because of that. Is that clear?"

"Yes, Your Grace."

"If I only learn that you did as much as raised your voice at her…" Maekar said and left the threat hanging. Of course, he knew that Ser Ronal could and would be Daella's champion in the hall but not the bedchamber. And the fact that he had to send her back to this detestable brute made him sick. The thought that Baratheon would escape intact made him want to commit murder.

"And we _will_ learn, make no mistake about that" a soft voice said from the shadows. A red eye glinted like a glass of wine, like a drop of blood. _How many eyes does Lord Bloodraven has? A hundred eyes, and one._

Baratheon nodded grimly and the meeting was closed with everyone feeling desperately dismayed with the way things had turned out.


	13. Chapter 13

_Two years later…_

Rhae loved getting up early, before dawn. She sat in front of the empty pools and looked at the soft ripples of water, heard their gentle splashing. The rosy light slowly bathing them and turning them into a sea of rubies and diamonds never failed to fill her with awe. The servants had long ago become accustomed to the fact that she rose almost as early as them and left her some fruit and fresh bread on a table near the blood orange trees. Rhae's lips curled in a suppressed smile when she saw the goblet of lemon juice next to her plate. She didn't like lemon juice but maesters here claimed it was good for a woman with child, helping her keep her food down, so no one even thought to ask her. Everyone was so engaged in her upcoming delivery, it was slightly aggravating and very endearing. She sat quietly, enjoying the dawn and expecting the new day, when the children would come running. Soon, her Duncan would be old enough to join them. He already insisted that he was.

Other times, she sat on the highest terrace and looked at the dawn turning the sands red. Her eyes were drawn to the horizon and beyond where she knew Summerhall lay. Summerhall. King's Landing. Home.

Not that she wasn't happy in Dorne. She was. But the rift with her family pained her. The Water Gardens felt like home, just like Sunspear did. But they were not the home she had grown up in. She was very fond of Daenerys but she missed Aelinor. And the two young princesses of Dorne, still girls… a silver one and a dark-haired one, best friends like Rhae and Daella once. The sight of them never failed to bring a mix of joy and sadness in her heart. No matter what happened, the things with Daella would never be the same for her.

"Are you crying?" Egg asked. She hadn't heard him approaching behind her.

She couldn't tell him the reason for her tears, so she lied, "Sometimes the babe kicks me too strong…"

He took her in his arms and gently stroked her belly under the robe. "Is it better now?"

She smiled faintly. "Much better…"

He stared right ahead. "It is so beautiful," he said, somehow awed. Rhae nodded silently and reached for a blood orange when someone spoke behind them.

"You're both here. I thought we'd have to wake you up."

Prince Maron, still in his riding clothes and dusty boots, and Daenerys, in a robe that had been obviously put on haphazardly, her silver hair falling wildly to the small of her back, came out from behind a column.

"What happened?" Egg asked immediately.

"This night, a raven came," Maron said. "It seems we have a new rebellion at our hands."

"The Blackfyres again?" Egg asked and stole a look at Daenerys whose face was extremely troubled.

"Who else!" Maron said. "But this time, it won't be like what happened with the Pretender. This time, Bittersteel himself has sent an army across the sea to land at Westeros… at Storm's End, to be precise. From there, they intend to struck inlands. As long as I can say, Storm's End has already been promised to one of their followers… after they kill all Baratheons, of course."

"Of course," Egg agreed coolly. "And my sister?" he asked angrily. "What are they going to do with my sister?"

Maron looked aside. For first time, he looked hesitant. "She… she would be a prize for the troops, I think."

Rhae gasped. Egg shook his head. "Impossible! This is simply not done with ladies of royal blood."

"This depends on the fact whether they are royal blood," Daenerys spoke. "And according to Aegor, Daella is not, I assure you. His temper is a strange mix of great generosity and extreme cruelty. I have no doubt that he could give such an order. I hear he's ill, though, so I hope he won't lead his army in person."

Egg almost cursed before remembering that there were ladies present. He only looked at Maron. "When are we leaving?" he asked.

"Tomorrow night."

* * *

_Two days later…_

"This is a marvelous work," Rhae said admiringly, looking at Daenerys' embroidery. "How can you make them so even? I cannot even see where one seam ends and the other begins."

Daenerys loked up. "My mother taught me. I always enjoyed such female activities. I love creating beauty. Aelinor, on the other hand, hated it. I remember the day when she made the Maiden's face blue."

Rhae laughed. "She did?"

"Oh yes. My lady mother was furious, said it was a blasphemy. I thought it was hilarious. Aelinor was quite pleased with herself."

Rhae shook her head. "I cannot imagine her like this. I simply can't."

"I haven't seen her in years but from what I remember from the last time I saw her, I can see your point. But she was not always like this."

Daenerys looked around. The children were splashing each other in the pools, not having an idea that their entire world might collapse very soon. It was so soothing and somehow unreal.

"I remember when my children were small enough to play here," Daenerys said dreamily. "If I could picture happiness, I would draw these years of bliss. And now, my son is old enough to join his father in battle. Where did all this time go?"

Rhae shuddered at the thought that her children – Duncan and the one to be born – would one day find themselves at the battlefield. Her hands went protectively to her belly. She looked at the older woman. "Aren't you scared at all?"

"I am so scared I haven't slept since they left," Daenerys said. "But I have sent my husband to battle many times. The first time Alor joined him, I almost told Maron to take care of him – in front of all his battle commanders." She laughed. "Alor would have never forgiven me, I am sure. And now my Mors is having his baptism of fire. It's always hard for mothers. When someone leaves for war, I can always feel something dying within my heart. But your father once said that we must have the courage to send our sons in we expect them to have the courage to go. He was fourteen at the time, I think, and Queen Myriah didn't want to let him go. And he also said that the walls of our castles, they weren't meant for us to hide behind them but defend them instead."

Rhae nodded. That sounded like something her father would say.

Daenerys returned to her embroidery. "Maekar is smart," she said. "He was always easy to flare up but he's smart. And he can control himself better than most people think. I don't think I ever heard him raise his voice at Rhaegel since his… troubles… became obvious. It was a hard thing for me to believe, I kept expecting that he'd explode at some of Rhaegel's most ridiculous notions but he never did. He tolerated him in a way he did no one else, even his father, even Baelor. Well, except for Naeryn, obviously, but there was another reason for that altogether."

"Because he loved her?" Rhae asked, looking at the children, and sipped at the lemon juice se hated. It was horrible to think that these children might not grow up at all.

"No, because he didn't," Daenerys replied without thinking. Then she realized who was speaking to and blushed furiously. But Rhae seemed completely unfazed. She did not remember her mother so she could not be hurt by Daenerys' words. All she felt was bewilderment and frankly, curiosity. Her father was a hard man and she could not imagine him being patient with anyone without a very good reason - he just didn't have it in him and he was always quick to see the glass as half-empty. If it hadn't been love, then what? She said this much to Daenerys who shook her head.

"Don't you see?" she asked. "He didn't love her. He never had. So he did all he could do to make up. Oh he had a passion for her, he did. And with time, he grew very fond of her. She was a woman who was impossible not to like. But love? No. He was never in love with Naeryn Velaryon."

"You look very certain."

Daenerys was focused on her embroidery. Yellow and blue, blue and green, seam after seam. "I am. I was nineteen when they wed and I had a good idea what was going on. She has been at court for a while, she was one of my companions. With her lineage and beauty, she had many courtiers but Maekar never looked at her twice. But there this prophecy was made, the maesters and some priests talking to Daeron…"

Rhae frowned. She disliked prophecies. She hated the look on her Daeron's face after he had had one of his dreams. Prophecies were the bane of happiness, killers of calm. "What prophecy?"

"That Maekar had to wed Naeryn because the Prince Who Was Promised would be born of their line."

Rhae shivered and pressed a hand to her belly. "I don't believe it," she snapped.

"Neither did your father. He was always mindful of his duty but according to him, some dusty old prophecies that might come true or turn out to be a product of a fevered dream or a goblet of good wine did not fall into this category. And the original plan was for him to wed another lady. At the end, thought, he gave up. He wed Naeryn and was so lenient with her, always, entertaining any whim of hers. Had he been in love with her, he wouldn't have been like this at all. He has always been quite wicked."

Rhae laughed tersely. "That's quite the understatement!"

"Isn't it!"

The dying sun was turning the Water Gardens into fountains of fire. Like a battlefield. A maid-servant came to fill their goblets and bring them some refreshments. Duncan ran to them to show them the butterfly he had caught. Rhae looked at her lap. "Who was my father going to wed?" she finally asked.

Daenerys looked at her. "I think you know," she said.

And Rhae gasped, the picture suddenly clear, her father's bitterness, his fixation on duty, his fury at their secret wedding…

Daenerys stood up. "I have to return to Sunspear first thing tomorrow," she said. "I don't want to leave you right now but I cannot rule Dorne from here. When birth starts, send for me. I'll come."

"I will," Rhae said, suddenly glad that for a while, she would be away from Daenerys while she could take in all that she had learned, the dark secrets of her family besides those she already knew about, the ones that shadowed their lives still. Not that the Princess was to blame. Rhae could have stopped her from talking. She hadn't.

* * *

_Ten days later…_

It had been raining for a week – vicious flood that blurred earth and sky and made the sea swell, deceptively soft rain that turned the skin icy, the furious storms that the people of Storm's End had grown up accustomed to…The sea was roaring, beating the rocks with white foam and thick layers of seaweed.

Standing high on the castle walls, Lord Baratheon looked at the invading army with disdain. "I hate sitting in here and letting these bastards destroy my lands in the process," he spat. "Holing in is not my specialty!"

"It isn't mine either, my lord," Daella reminded him. "But for now, we have no choice. They are simply more numerous than we are and they are having the better ground. But this rain is just as damaging to him as it is to us. Their horses can tolerate these seas of mud no better than ours."

"I _know_ this," he snapped. " I only wish I could do something. Or have your father do something, instead of just sitting there."

Daella bristled. "If something can be done, you can be sure my father will do it, my lord," she said stiffly.

"I doubt it, unless it includes a swing of the mace." He laughed darkly. "There is no love lost between your father and me, my lady, and you know it."

"My father will always do what is best for the realm," she said.

"Of that, I have no doubt."

Suddenly, he grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her hard. "It's always the realm with you Targaryens, isn't it?"

"Let me go!" she said and tried to shake him off, unsuccessfully.

"Let her go, my lord," Ser Roland Crakehall said calmly, his hand on his sword.

The lord of Storm's End did let her go – he had no other choice. The Kingsguard had turned literally into Daella's shadow. The only place he didn't follow her was the bedchamber.

Suddenly, he was overwhelmed – his troubles with Daella, this damned siege, the murmurs among his people who were not thrilled with their land being plundered by the attackers, and now this white wraith that was always a step behind them…

"Fine!" he exploded. "I just wanted to tell you… Do you still think I gained so much by marrying you? There is no wealth or power in this world enough to make up for living with you, you block of ice! 'Yes, my lord', 'As you wish, my lord'… do you even have a single thought of your own, Princess? Have you ever wanted something? Or someone? You haven't, have you? You're so kind, ever the perfect lady. And nothing else. It's a pity that a beauty like yours was wasted on such a creature. A marble statue would make a more pleasant companion than you. At least, it would not be so fragile! Are you even of flesh and blood, my lady? Gods! I have no wonder as to why your brother took the exile instead of living with you. He must have known you better than everyone, right? _Right?_ "

"Please, stop…" Daella moaned.

He was shaking with fury. "I won't stop…" he started but then the white knight suddenly cried, "Look out!"

In Maekar's camp, behind the besiegers, a signal had started flashing out: a red flag, a blue one, a white one and the blue one again.

"What does it mean?" the lord of the castle asked.

Ser Ronald was still watching the signals intently. When they were displayed for a third time, he turned to look at the lord and lady of Storm's End, his teeth bared in a wolfish grin. "It is a modified signal from the last Council at King's Landing that I witnessed. It was meant for me."

"But what does it mean?" Daella asked.

"It means _tonight_ ," the Kingsguard said and started issuing orders about the response signal.

* * *

_A few hours later…_

" _Engage the enemy and retreat_ ," Maron Martell said.

His battle commanders, gathered aboard _Nymeria_ , looked at each other. "What does it mean?" Alor Sand asked.

His father looked at him, pretending to be surprised. "Well, I imagine it means _engage the enemy and retreat_."

"But they will chase us and then they will give up chase and return back to their siege. And their cavalry will not engage anyway," the young Mors Martell exploded. "It makes no sense!"

"There must be a sense," Egg said softly. "My father has some plan."

"Well, that much is obvious," Lord Fowler said. "But what plan, exactly?"

"I don't know," Egg admitted.

"I don't know either," Maron Martell said and looked at everyone. "But you know what? I have never served under finer battle commanders than Prince Maekar and his late brother. So we do what he says."

"And hope to live to see what he meant," his heir muttered, barely audibly, but did not voice any disagreement.

* * *

_An hour later…_

Right now, Maekar did not feel like a battle commander, a fine one or not. He felt like a gambler. He was gambling the kingdom, Daella's life, Aegon's life, as well as his own… But it had to be done. The third Blackfyre Rebellion was gathering new supporters every day and he had to squash it before it grew beyond control. These idiots were determined to free their rightful King, Daemon the Second… No one thought to ask the boy whether he _wanted_ to be freed… Maekar had met him a few times and apart from the Pretender's quite understandable antipathy for Targaryens and the fact that technically, he was a captive, he actually looked a bit relieved to be away from Bittersteel. Maekar could relate to the sentiment. He was never the most cheerful of men but gods, even when they were children, Bittersteel could make him look like a jester in comparison…

He tore his eyes apart from the enemy camp and said, "Bring the two fishermen back!"

A few days ago, his order to find the most experienced fishermen around had been met with confusion. He had spoken to them in private, with only the two Kingsguard in attendance. Now, it seemed that his battle commanders would finally hear what all this was about.

The two men bowed clumsily. One of them tried to kneel but Maekar waved his hand impatiently. As mindful as he was of his dignity, there was something vile in making the old man kneel to him. He looked as if he could barely stand…

"Are you certain?" he suddenly asked.

The two men looked at each other and nodded, surprisingly firmly.

"Say it again for my commanders," Maekar ordered.

The younger man took a deep breath. "Your Grace," he said. "My lord. We have been making our living by the sea. We know it better than everyone and we swear – this night the tide will be enormous, bigger than you have ever seen in your life. We have seen such a thing only three times in all our years. The sea will cover half the plain!"

The experienced commanders started talking excitedly over each other, having immediately taken the Prince's meaning. Was it true? If it was, they could use it to their advantage and land the crushing blow. Sure, it was dangerous but anything was better than sitting here and waiting in vain! If their Dornish allies could engage the enemy fleet and then run away? It would make sense for the rebel ships to cast anchor for the night. And if the tide was so high, it would break their anchor and start tossing them around, separating them from their people ashore. Meanwhile, the Dornishmen could land somewhere a little away and come to their aid. And they could attack from two sides – with their own army and the Storm's End one! Just when the tide was coming. They could burn the siege machines, shove the entire cavalry into the sea! They could cut the rebellion before it even really started. Oh it was dangerous, no doubt. The enemy was considerably more numerous than them. But if they could turn the rebel's better ground into the worse conditions possible?

"They are attacking!" someone yelled. "The Dornishmen are attacking!"

"So it begins," Maekar murmured and went outside to watch. Never in his life had he regretted more the pitiful mishap that had killed Baelor than now, when he had to watch the results of his decision that could lead to his son's death if the Dornish ships did not land in time. It was a terrible waiting, more so than the one twenty-five years ago when he had watched the Black Dragon's army being pushed against his people and wondered whether his shield wall would hold.

 _I think, Baelor_ , _that right now you would have done what I am doing_ , he thought and prayed that his gamble was winning.

* * *

_Almost at dawn…_

"The sea! My lady, it's the sea!"

Daella who was sitting in her solar fully dressed, shot out. Storm's End was crowded with people who ran upstairs and downstairs, women carried buckets of water and pitch, men were lining in ranks in the courtyard…

Daella took the steps to the highest watchtowers two in time. Her husband and Ser Ronald, fully armoured, looked at her with dark grins through the slits of their helmets. Daella made a step forward and gasped at the sight the hundreds of torches revealed . What had recently been a plain was now a raging sea under the rock of Storm's End. And the ants scrambling desperately for higher ground were no ants at all… and the higher ground was littered with her father's troops. As she was watching, a new dark wave came from the left side of the besiegers and in the brightening sky and the torchlight she saw the shining sun and the spear of their banners.

"Gods!" Lord Baratheon exclaimed. "It seems your father knew what he was doing after all!"

When the dawn slowly started to bathe the sea rosy, the lord of Storm's End raised his hand and gave a battle cry. The gates of the castle slowly opened and Lord Baratheon was the first in the flood of horsemen that ran through it.

* * *

_A few hours later…_

Maekar was just dismounting in the bailey when his daughter shot through the gate in the second castle wall and flew into his arms. Maekar hugged her tightly; he, too, had been informed what the rebels' commander had intended to do with her, should they win. "You were not harmed, child?"

"No, Father. I'll admit I was quite scared, though," she confided. "I was trying not to show it but I was terrified it would be the end of us all."

"For one of us, it was the end," Maekar said. "Your husband perished in the battle, as the warrior he was."

For a moment, Daella closed her eyes, hating herself for the song of joy and relief echoing through her entire being. She had tried to not wish for her husband's death. She had. But it had not worked. Since the stillbirth, he had never laid a finger on her but he had done things to her in the night, things that were surely not normal between men and women. Had they been, thousands of women would have committed suicide every day…

"I am sure the Warrior claimed him for his own," she finally said, just when a new voice chimed in.

"Oh I am so glad you're well!" Egg exclaimed and Daella drew back from her father and threw herself at Egg. He hugged her back so tightly that she groaned and laughed.

"You are unscathed?" Maekar asked as if they had seen each other only the day before.

"Not quite," Egg grinned. "But I am in one piece and oh I am so happy to see that both of you are, too."

"I'll send for a maester to tend you," Maekar said, pushing aside the thought that he was not supposed to show caring for yet another year. Right now, everything was fine. Right now, Aegon could have all the coddling in the world. He would think about the troubles tomorrow.


	14. Chapter 14

_Two years later…_

"Your Grace! Uncle!"

Daella flew through the Red Keep like a whiff of breeze or rather, a whirlwind or excitement and anticipation. The servants shook their heads while they were scrambling to get out of her way. Some of them smiled. It was good to see the Princess so joyous. For the last few years, she had been unusually withdrawn, albeit physically healthy. It was as if her youth was a flower suddenly deprived of its saps of life – lovely but withered.

The two Kingsguard in front of the study stood tense but neither of them moved to stop her when she burst inside and looked at the sofa. As she had expected, the King was there with a book. He looked at her and smiled. "I am very happy to see you like that, child. Come here and give your uncle a kiss. That's right. Sit here, next to me. What happened?"

But Daella could not sit calm, as much as she was trying to keep her good manners. "A letter, there is a letter. I intercepted the messenger at the gates of the Red Keep and…"

"What were you doing at the gates of the Red Keep?" Aerys asked and gave her a stern look. "Daella, if you have gone out without guards again…"

"How did it come that you haven't forgotten _that_?" Daella muttered. Really, this was the most inopportune time for her uncle's proverbial absent-mindedness to desert him. And honestly, how was it all right for him to walk in the Red Keep without guards when there were constant attempts against his life but it was not all right for Daella who was fairly insignificant in the great scheme of things to go out into the town incognito alone? It was not as if she wore the Targaryen cloak at these escapades of hers. And it was not as if she was instantly recognizable. With her dark hair and if she wore something to mute the indigo of her eyes, she could pass for any woman. She had asked her aunt but Aelinor only laughed. This was the way of men, she said. What was good enough for Aerys was not good enough for his beloved niece. In this, Daella thought, her uncle was, unfortunately, too much like her father.

But now, she was too excited to focus on this. "There is a letter from Dorne," she said and showed it to Aerys before impatiently shoving it into his hand. "Come on, read it. Maybe they are coming home this time."

Aerys suppressed a sigh. Personally, he was quite doubtful about that. A whole year had passed since the end of Aegon and Rhae's punishment, letters came regularly but there was not the merest hint that they were coming back. It seemed that they had settled quite nicely at Dorne. Aegon was unofficially in Maron's service, they had a residence at Sunspear… For all their kindness, there was a good deal of Maekar's pride and stubbornness in both of them. No, he did not think that they were coming back.

True enough, when he broke the seal – now it was the Targaryen seal Aegon and Rhae were entitled to use once again – he read nice but quite meaningless words and good wishes. Nothing about an upcoming return.

Daella's face fell. "Really? Let me see."

She snatched the letter from her uncle's hand. Aerys had long ago stopped arguing that the letters were addressed to him. Daella devoured the letter, as if she hoped it might say something different that the King had simply failed to notice. But there was none.

"Are they going to come back?" Daella's voice was soft, subdued. Aerys patted her hand.

"I don't think so, child. Not unless we do something."

* * *

_Two hours later…_

"He said Aegon no doubt will be further elevated in Dorne's structure," Aerys said at dinner. "He also said that Rhae hasn't left the Water Gardens in more than a year and very few people have seen her."

Maekar shrugged. "Well, as long as I know, the Water Gardens is a fully functional residence and far more comfortable than Sunspear. Why should she leave it?"

Daella looked at him skeptically. "Because she's Rhae?" she suggested.

Her father glared at her. Did she really need to say it? Pretenses aside, it was strange and they knew it. Was Rhae ill? What was going on? Was she _hiding_?

"And Aegon?" Aelinor asked. "What about him?"

"Obviously, he is dividing his time between Sunspear, the Water Gardens and tasks in the inside of Dorne."

Grim and silent, Maekar pretended that he was not interested in the subject. Really, if these spoiled children wanted to play insulted when they were the ones who brought it all on themselves, there was nothing he could do. _They want to stay in Dorne?_ he thought. _Well, that's fine with me._ It wasn't really fine, of course, but he was not ready to admit it. So, now Aegon was playing a self-made man at Dorne? _Very well, let him do it_ , Maekar raved inwardly. He, of all people, who could have helped them rebuild the trust in the dynasty, who could have won them the hearts of those lords who were still undecided where they stood simply because Daemon Blackfyre, dead for almost thirty years, had been _charismatic_ , he who had all the makings his brothers and cousins lacked and could be invaluable to them… he was now determined to play insulted, to show that he could do it all of his own, to act up…

"So," Rhaegel said kindly, "this is a blind alley if I ever saw one. At least, you think it is…"

Maekar looked at him darkly. In the last year, Rhaegel had grown even thinner, his moments of lucidity increasing but it was at the expense of his physical strength. There was not much that maesters could do for him. The wasting disease was eating him away. It was painful to watch. "What do you mean?" Maekar asked.

"I mean that it is simpler than the two of you are making it to be," Rhaegel clarified and looked at both his brothers. He had stopped eating, as if more than two bites of a meal were too much for him. "They want to come back, otherwise they would have severed the ties long ago. They would have stopped sending these meaningless letters…"

Aerys and Maekar looked at each other. It was true and they did not need Rhaegel to tell them that. Aegon and Rhae were still waiting for them to hold out a hand. Still, it changed nothing. They had to bring Aegon and Rhae back without showing them how much they needed them because if these irresponsible children got a whiff of it, they would cock their noses and there would be no setting things right…

"So," Rhaegel went on, this time staring singularly at Maekar. "It is this simple: Aegon and Rhae want to come back, you want to take them back. There must be a way that would not hurt either their pride or yours. And even if it gets hurt, does it really matter this much? Is it the moment to act proud?"

 _It is_ , Maekar almost said. Pride was the only thing he had left. But he did not say it. Rhaegel was still staring at him and it felt disturbing, since he had spent years _not_ looking anyone in the eye. He did not know what he was talking about, of course. Lucid or not, Rhaegel lived in a world of his own where people were all good and all hurts could be mended. And yet, for the briefest of moments Maekar wished he could believe Rhaegel and no one else.

Aelinor had obviously read his thoughts because she shook her head, disgusted. "So this is dignity, now? Gods, you've been getting your notions confused since you were a child but now you've really tied yourself in knots."

But she did not get the special treatment that Maekar reserved for Rhaegel, so now he answered sharply, "Very well, I have one notion straight though: I take advice only from people…"

He suddenly realized what he was going to say and shut up. Aelinor's face went pale. "From people who have experience in the things that they are giving advice for, you mean?"

"I didn't say that."

"You didn't need to."

It took a tremendous effort but she managed to keep her face serene. "Naeryne died too young and maybe I grew fond of her children more than I should have had, Maekar, if I am to hear such harsh words of you."

His face burned with shame and regret. "I am sorry," he said. His words were clumsy and sounded formal, not like something he felt in his heart but his eyes were wide with disbelief, full of plea and remorse. "I didn't… You know I didn't mean it. I just…" He sighed. "I just didn't think."

Her eyebrows rose. "And this is news… how?"

In this exchange, Aerys had wisely kept silent, for a big part of it was hus fault. Had he said anything, they would have probably joined forces at lashing out at him. But now he had his mind made. It could not go on like this. Aegon and Rhae's absence was hurting everyone in more than one way and they were hurting each other as a result. It had to end.

"Shut up, both of you," he said. "Shut up and listen. This has to end. Maekar, you are leaving for Dorne on my orders. That should save your precious pride. You will convince them that they have to come back. Aelinor, you are going with him because Rhae and Aegon are both very fond of you and I trust you not to fail the whole enterprise with outbursts that are completely uncalled for… or even ones that are called for. We'll call it a high visit or something. And you are also taking Aemon because, frankly, out of the whole family, he is the one I think won't lose his head under any circumstances. You go there, bring them back and then, hopefully, we can finally put this unfortunate affair behind."

The others started exchanging looks with each other. Could it really be this simple? They were about to find out.


	15. Chapter 15

_A few weeks later…_

"She's coming round," a voice said.

Aelinor wondered briefly what Aemon was doing in her bedchamber. She tried to rise and fell back helplessly. He managed to catch her before her head hit the bed… the bed? She had never had a bad so firm. Her lashes flickered, then her eyes opened wide. She was not in her bedchamber at all. She was lying on the ground, a mantle wadded up under her head.

"Aemon?" she croaked, barely audibly. "What… what happened?"

"You fell from your horse when dismounting. Don't you remember?"

"No." Aelinor tried to shake her head and failed. "No, I don't…"

Aemon's eyes were warm and full of concern, his fingers deft and gentle on her forehead. "You should have waited for us to help you dismount, Aunt," he murmured. "Your leg gave up… But I should have known something like that might happen. I… I am sorry."

She feebly reached to touch his hand in reassurance. "Not… not your fault."

"Quite right. You should have waited."

Aelinor blinked and Maekar's face came in her field of vision over his son's shoulder. "I know. I just… I just thought I could do it. I felt better than I had in months and…"

"And decided it was time for it to end!" Maekar patted her shoulder, awkwardly tender. "No matter, though, for it could have been far worse. Tell your ladies that you are fine and they should stop sniveling, or I will and they won't like it," he added.

She smiled. Her attendants _were_ quite vocal in their concern.

While she was assuring them that everything was fine, Maekar pulled Aemon aside. "Was it an accident?" he asked in low voice.

The young man slowly shook his head. "No. It was not."

For a moment, Maekar didn't say a thing. Then he looked at his son levelly. "Will there be a day when she'll be unable to walk at all?" he asked.

Aemon hesitated. But he had been taught never to lie about such things. Never to give false hopes. "Probably," he said. "She might delay it if she takes care… if she agrees to be carried around in a litter… instead she's constantly putting too much pressure on her good leg… and one day, it won't take it any more."

Maekar grinded his teeth. Of course Aelinor would never let herself be carried around in a litter. Of course she'd strain her good leg until it gave up… until she collapsed. He hated it but he understood. After all, if he were in her place, he'd do the very same thing.

He strode away, leaving the others to tend to her. When he had gone far enough, he knelt and landed his fist at the ground. His skin tore, drops of blood flew around, and it was still not enough.

* * *

_Two days later…_

They arrived at Sunspear when the sun was setting down, engulfing the city in sparkles of red, orange, and gold. When young, Maekar had been here a few times but to the others, it was their first visit, so Aelinor and Aemon looked around with the same curiosity as the Dornish who crowded the streets, staring at their train and the three silver-headed riders in the lead. Whispers turned to cries and acclaims while the news of who the visitors were spreading like wildfire. Still, all three of them had had decades to attune to the sentiments of the crowd and immediately realized that this one was anticipating something. Something dark. Something they would not like at all.

"What do you think it is?" Aemon asked his father without clarifying what he meant.

"I don't know," Maekar replied. Then, he turned to Aelinor. "Can you ride faster?"

In the Tower of the Sun, a dark-haired prince stood up and bowed, welcoming them to Dorne. He was about thirty years younger than expected.

"My lord father's duties are keeping him away from Sunspear," Mors Martell said. "And my lady mother is tending to another kind of duties in the Water Garden. I think you'd like to go there as soon as possible."

"Of course," Aelinor said immediately. "If you'd be so kind to give orders about our retinue?"

And so they left Sunspear before even changing their traveling clothes.

* * *

_A few hours later…_

"So, these are the famous Water Gardens," Aelinor said. "I've heard much about them.

The young prince smiled. "They are my favourite place in the world, Your Grace. They are… a world unto their own. The best decision my father ever made."

"I remember your mother telling me all about this," Aelinor said. "Your father had them completed while she was visiting us in King's Landing, shortly after they wed. She was so surprised and happy. But nothing she said could compare to the reality of it. I…"

And she stopped midsentence, stunned speechless.

The pools were full of children. Children of various ages, of various colours. Tens of them. All happy. All laughing. Children everywhere. Young voices wherever she turned her head. A little away from the, a woman was sitting in a chair under the blood orange trees, holding an infant in her lap. Aelinor looked at Maekar who shook his head that no, he did not know a thing either. Aelinor did not understand. But it was like a dream born of imagination.

Until a woman's scream tore the air, drowning the children's shrieks of happiness. "What…" Aelinor started asking.

"This was Rhae," Maekar whispered, his face losing colour.

"Her Grace's travail has started," Mors Martell said.

"What?" Aemon asked, stunned. "I didn't even know she was with child," he said.

"No one knew," the Dornishman said. "Up until a few weeks, when the ladies started gathering here, I mean. Both the Prince and Princess preferred it this way."

"Why?" Maekar asked. "Why would they?"

Mors Martell very pointedly avoided looking at him. "I don't know," he claimed. "It's a private affair of theirs and I… I never asked. Honestly, I don't know," he said again and it was obvious that he was lying. Maekar's worry immediately turned to anger.

"What's going on with my daughter?" he asked harshly.

Unfortunately, the young heir of Dorne was not a man to be impressed with harshness. And he had no desire to do the explanations that should fall to Aegon Targaryen. No one liked to be the bearer of dire news. "I suggest that you ask your son, Your Grace," he said. "Aegon is somewhere here. I'll send for him. Meanwhile," he added, inspired all of a sudden. "Meanwhile you can take a look at your grandson. He is the boy who is just getting out from the left end of the pool."

His tactic worked: all three Targaryens immediately forgot about him and turned at the direction he had pointed them at. The child was staring at them, his eyes bright with curiosity.

Maekar felt such a shock that the world spun around him but when it righted itself again, the child was still there and still looked the same.

He knew the boy was four. Duncan Targaryen – _what a ridiculous name,_ he had thought when he first heard it – was by no means big for his age. A small lively thing, very agile, dripping water and… completely naked. Long locks of dark hair clung to his sun-bronzed forehead.

Maekar almost made a step backward. How was it possible? Was this really the son of fair-haired Aegon and Rhae who was even fairer? Big violet eyes met his gaze and held it without the faintest trace of fear. He knew those eyes.

Behind him, Aemon whispered, "Incredibly. He's the very image of Daella."

It was true, of course. Little Duncan did resemble Daella a lot. But Maekar was astounded to his resemblance to a boy he sometimes saw in his dreams, a boy who haunted him still.

Aelinor sucked her breath in, her hand rising to her mouth.

After getting a good look at them, Duncan Targaryen obviously decided that these people who did nothing but stare at him were not worthy objects of his attention, so he turned his back on them and jumped back in the pool. An older girl seated him on her shoulders and staggered somewhere in the water.

A movement at Maekar's right caught his attention. Aegon appeared from the nearby gallery. His attire was in disarray, his hair a tangled mess. His eyes were bloodshot. He bowed stiffly without showing any surprise at seeing them here.

"Aegon, what's…"

But Aegon cut his father off. "I think… that Rhae is dying," he said.

"How so!" Aelinor exclaimed. "She's just giving birth, that's all."

"Her travail started five days ago," Aegon said helplessly. "Five days and six nights. It was bad enough last time, but now it is... I…"

He cut himself off when the woman with the infant hesitantly came near them. She was young and lean, a salty Dornish."Your Grace," she said when she saw that he was looking at her. "I'll put him to sleep."

He nodded. "Go."

She didn't. "Your Grace?" she said again, with new hesitancy. "How is the Princess?"

His face fell further. "Still nothing."

"I'll pray for her," she whispered. He only nodded. "I'll be going, then."

"Wait," Aemon stopped her and looked at his brother, then the child.

Aegon sighed. "This is Jaehaerys," he said and paused, caught in some sort of internal fight. "He's ill. The maesters say he was born too early for his heart and lungs to properly develop. They say he won't live long."

"Do they?" Maekar asked, sounding very unimpressed. "When you were born, we frequently got asked what clothes we'd bury you in. That lasted for two years, I think."

At first, Aegon just stared at him. Then, there was a sudden flash of gratitude in his eyes. Maekar turned to the small bundle in the woman's arms. Large purple eyes stared at him, too focused for such a small child. What little hair Jaehaerys had was shining silver in the sunlight. A little arm had gotten free and Maekar noticed that the nails were not fully formed yet. He was no specialist in infants but he knew that meant the child had been born _way_ too early. Reassurances to Aegon aside, he had never seen a child who looked as fragile as this one.

"He's so beautiful," Aelinor whispered. "His hair is lovely."

"I am glad you can see hair," Maekar said. He was talking not so much to her as to Aegon, trying to keep his son's fear in check, as well as his own. "Because he looks completely bald to me."

'Of course he does have hair!" Aelinor replied indignantly. "It's just very fair, so it isn't visible. I swear, you were about five when one could finally discern anything resembling hair on _your_ head."

"And I swear you were very good at feeling said hair to pull it even if it didn't exist." It was now Maekar's turn to refresh her memory.

"Of course," Aelinor admitted. "That's why you were given to me - to torment you. That's how Father saw it. That's why when he lifted me up to look into your cradle, he told me that you were my present."

Aegon almost smiled. Listening to their banter felt so soothing.

A sudden flurry of movement made them all freeze. A flock of women spilled through a door in one of the yards and headed somewhere. Aegon turned even paler.

"What?" Maekar asked. "What is it!"

"These are the Dornish ladies," Aegon said, his eyes full of terror.

Maekar did not understand. "And?"

"And they are heading for the yard where the litters are."

Maekar still did not get it.

"Don't you see?" Aegon almost cried. "If the maesters have sent them away, that means that they do not expect… they don't expect the childbirth to end in success."

He turned on his heels and ran back inside, leaving them there stunned.

In the deadly silence, little Jaehaerys gurgled happily and reached for Aelinor's bracelet.


	16. Chapter 16

A few minutes later…

"I'll go and see what's going on," Aemon finally said. "Aegon is so scared that he might be seeing things that aren't there."

"Yes, please do." Maekar's voice was still even but his worry was more evident now, with the one who most needed reassurance gone.

"I'll need to change my clothes and wash my hands," Aemon said and again looked at the infant who was still looking at Aelinor, entranced. "He is quite smart," he said, somewhat surprised, when Jaehaerys held out his hands for the Queen to take him, smiling and gurgling. "And he seems to have a liking to you," he added, smiling, and looked at the nursemaid. "Can you tell me where I can change?" he asked politely and she shook her head.

"But I'll have someone sent to you, my lord," she said. "If only I could take the Prince to the nursery first?"

"You can't," Maekar said. "He stays with us. And you'd better be quick."

She was about to protest that she wasn't supposed to leave the child for a minute, especially not with a man who had so callously discussed the possible death of his own newborn son. But the woman did seem kind and there was something about the young man that simply inspired trust. And judging by all the rumours she had heard, Maekar Targaryen was not a man she'd like to cross.

Still… she had been entrusted with the little Prince since he was born, She had held him before his mother who'd been too ill to realize that she had a son.

So she was extremely relieved when she saw a familiar glow of silvery-white hair.

"Oh I am so glad to see you," Daenerys Martell said to Aelinor and Maekar without bothering with greetings. "It's truly a nightmare here!"

"Take Aemon somewhere to change clothes," Maekar said. "He'll see his sister and tell us what he thinks."

Daenerys looked at Aemon with brief interest. She had never met Maekar's third son, but she had heard much about him from Rhae who wouldn't shut up about how good and kind, and smart he was. Personally, she had no idea of his skills as a maester but she approved of the idea of someone whose presence could help calming Rhae down – and Aegon, too!

"Take the Prince to his brother's chambers," she instructed the nursemaid. "Give him here," she added and took Jaehaerys who snuggled happily against her.

The day was dying in a sea of red and orange against the marble pavement, against the clear blue of the waterworks, against the warm glow of the sands beyond the palace. The waning light bathed Daenerys' face and the lines of exhaustion around her very weary eyes. She rubbed her nose against Jaehaerys' head and sank down to a marble bench.

"What happened?" Aelinor finally asked.

Daenerys shook her head, staring at the children in the pools. "I don't know. At the beginning, everything was going so fine and Rhae didn't even cry. But it's been so many days now, the pangs are very sharp and it's still nothing. The maesters and midwives think it is an unusual presentation."

"Maesters?" Maekar asked harshly. "How many?"

"Four of them, and I think…"

Maekar laughed, not quite merrily. "I see."

"What is it that you see?" Daenerys snapped. She had always preferred Maekar's dark moods and downright rudeness to his biting sarcasm and unfinished remarks that sometimes left all of them reeling, mostly because they were not something that was expected of him.

"I see why Aegon was so lost. Too many maesters, and each of them with a mind of his own, all of them together confusing him and driving him mad…"

She nodded. "I've started to think along these lines, too. But last year, she almost died giving birth to Jaehaerys and the maesters barely managed to get him out in time, blue and unresponsive, so we figured it would be good to gave as many of them here as possible."

Jaehaerys stirred against her and she started rocking him. All of them fell silent. "So, they all think it's a bad presentation?" Maekar finally asked. "They are just on different mind of what to do about it?"

"Yes," Daenerys said. "Bad presentation. And maybe too big a child."

Maekar looked at Aelinor and she could feel the memory of Naeryn exploding in his mind.

After a while, Aemon came back, talking quietly to a dark-robed maester. They both looked serious but controlled. Aegon trailed behind them, even more defeated than before.

"Give him to me," he told Daenerys and she silently placed Jaehaerys in his arms. The little boy was now fast asleep and his lips were twitching in his sleep. Aegon held him tight.

"So?" Maekar asked, looking at Aemon.

"A bad presentation," his son said. "And Rhae is very exhausted. It's been taking too long but that's a good thing, otherwise…" His voice trailed off but they all understood his meaning: long or short, this birth would have never resulted in a live child. The fact that it was taking so long was what was keeping Rhae alive. For now.

"And so?" Maekar asked again.

Aemon hesitated. "I think she still has a chance," he said. Aegon sharply looked up. Daenerys exhaled. Aelinor clasped her hands together.

"What chance?" Aegon asked.

"I think her chance is Ivel," Aemon said, and the other maester looked at him.

"You… you surely don't mean that I…?"

"Yes," Aemon said. "That's exactly what I mean. I've seen you saving women with it, Ivel, and you were still an acolyte then."

"Four women," the other maester spat, his swarthy face suddenly white. Now they all saw how young he was, barely a few years older than Aemon. "Four out of nine. You remember what happened to the other five?"

"I remember," Aemon said. "I remember that they would have all died anyway. You gave them a chance."

"Wait," Aegon interrupted, his eyes moving from one to the other. "What are you talking about?"

But none of them was listening. They were talking in fierce whisper, Aemon insistent, Ivel hesitant and protesting, yet oddly hopeful.

"You could do it yourself," he finally said. "You've done it, too."

Aemon shook his head. "But not as many times as you. And… it is my sister, Ivel. I… couldn't. I… shouldn't. I'll be second-guessing myself all the time. And I might hesitate… when moments matter."

"But… to do such a thing to Her Grace," the maester said in low voice. "The older maesters… they won't let us do it, Aemon. They just won't."

"They will," Aemon said firmly, sounding not like a maester but a prince. "Or they can go kill themselves, for all that I care."

He might have meant is only figuratively but there was a sudden chill in the falling darkness. Everyone thought of a day long ago that had started with so much hope and had ended in tragedy: Aemon's mother had died, with her baby still stuck. A few months later, the chief one among the maesters who had attended her and who had apparently done all that could be reasonably expected of him, had killed himself.

"Do you have any idea," Ivel asked in the same low horrified voice, "what would it mean to do such a thing to a Targaryen princess? The septas of the Mother will give uproar, they think that…"

"I am not having this argument right now," Aemon snapped. "What I want of you is to try and help a woman who will die otherwise for sure! Will you help her?"

"You know I will," Ivel snapped back. "But I want the others all gone, except for the midwives."

Aemon looked immensely relieved. "I'll have them gone," he promised.

"And I want you there. I saw you with her. She trusts you and you calm her down with your very presence."

Aemon looked aside. Aelinor who was closest to him heard him muttering something that she surely heard wrong. "She does, for now." Then, he went to his father and started whispering to him.

Aegon who was asking one question after another to Ivel, did not notice how Maekar shuddered and turned paler.

"Take the child to sleep," Aemon told the two women and Daenerys stood up to take Jaehaerys from Aegon's arms. Maekar rose and stood up behind Aegon's chair while Aemon and Ivel disappeared back into the residence.

The first scream came a few minutes later, a howl of agony like the one they hadn't heard by any human or animal, a shriek as loud and shrilling like tens of troops in the battlefield. Aegon sprang from his chair but his father pushed him back before he could rise fully. He started struggling but Maekar held him firmly. "Stay calm, for all god's sake!" he snapped harshly. "They are doing this for her own good."

The children who had already started leaving the pools because of the darkness were clearly frightened. Duncan came to his father but Aelinor waved to a young woman who was clearly his nursemaid to take him off.

Rhae was still howling in pain and anguish, an unintelligible scream that soon took shape. "No!" she was saying over and over. "No, it is still alive, you are maiming it, killing it, stop!"

And Aemon's voice, shaking and loud enough to make her hear him, "Please, Rhae, it's for your own good. We must remove the baby to save your life. Squeeze my hand. Yell if you must. But please, Rhae, please, don't move… it'll be quicker this way…"

Rhae kept shrieking and Aegon was struggling and thrashing against his father's arms restraining him. "Stay put," Maekar barked. "It's bad enough already. You can't help her. They are the only ones who can. Stay put, I said!"

It seemed like a very long time but it had probably lasted only minutes because Daenerys had barely come back when the screams suddenly stopped. In another few minutes – a hundred years, at least – Aemon appeared. "She's alive," he said immediately. "We hope she makes it. But we had to remove the baby to give her a chance."

"Remove it?" Aegon asked, suddenly tired to his bones. "What do you mean, remove it?"

Aemon hesitated and looked at his father. Maekar nodded. The young man's next words chilled both his brother and Aelinor to the bones. "Ivel had to carve it out of her. In pieces."

Aegon only stared and slumped in his seat. Aemon did not dare look at him. His eyes were red and still wet – he had wept as he had held his sister down…

"I must get back inside," he said. "I'll let you know… if there is a change…"

"Let go," Aegon said and since Maekar hesitated, he added, "I won't do anything."

Maekar silently released him.

The torches died out. The servants came to light new ones. They were all waiting but there was no noise coming from Rhae's chamber. No noise at all. As if the whole Water Gardens were dead or sleeping.

"Is it true that Daella's son died around the time Duncan was born?" Aegon suddenly asked. His voice sounded hoarse and dry, as if he was parched with thirst.

"Yes," Maekar said. "It is."

"And is it true that he was stillborn because Baratheon did… things to her?"

"It is."

Aegon turned to look his father in the eye. In the torchlight, their eyes looked dark and hopeless. "Do you think it's punishment from the gods?"

Maekar shook his head. "I prefer to think that the gods have more important things to do than giving punishment to irresponsible children," he said.

His words were hardly a compliment but Aegon felt comforted all the same. "Why did he do it?" he asked. "Daella is so kind and considerate. She's the last person who could merit such a treatment."

"Why did you not fall for her then?" Maekar countered but there was no anger in his voice. It was all in the past now. "The worst thing is, I could understand him," he said. "Baratheon."

His son blinked. "You did?"

"Oh yes. I could never forgive him but I understood him all right. Do you remember your mother?"

Aegon slowly shook his head. "No."

"Well, she was one of the best people to ever walk this earth. She was so good. I mean, really good." Maekar barked out a laugh. "In our first years together, I was sometimes sorely tempted to put my hands around her neck and squeeze, just to see whether she would finally fight back."

Aegon was staring at him. Aelinor was listening intently. Daenerys shook her head at the thought of how complicated human fates were.

"But you didn't?" Aegon asked.

"Of course I didn't," Maekar snapped. "I do not hit things smaller than me." Then, his voice evened out again. "I didn't deserve her when I wed her, and I didn't deserve her when she died. Had she stayed alive, I wouldn't have deserved her, ever. It's a hell to know this." He stared past Aegon, at the building. "Rhae will be fine," he said and they all prayed he was right.


	17. Chapter 17

_A few days later…_

Rhae survived the night, and the next day, and the day after that. They spoonfed her milk and washed her because she was unable to the smallest movements – she could not stir; she could not weep. The only signs of life were her beating heart and the tears falling down her cheeks.

The air of her chambers was heavy and suffocating, like the air at the battlefield. The aromatic herbs they burned and spilled around did not help. It was the smell of ailment and death and no one who entered could take her for something else – the maesters, Aemon, Aegon and Maekar, Aelinor and Daenerys. She did not react to anyone's presence, although she didn't have a fever.

"She'll live," an old maester said. "The reason she is so unresponsive is the pain she's gone through, in body and mind. She wanted this child," he finished and looked at Ivel with silent reproach.

"And I wanted _her_ ," Maekar cut him off. Lately, these people had started irritating him to no end. _They_ couldn't have saved Rhae, so she shouldn't have been saved at all – was that what they were thinking? Septas of the Mother were even worse. For what he had been able to put together – not that anyone would dare to speak frankly in front of him but early in his childhood he had found the value of eavesdropping and questioning the servants – they felt that the maesters should have tried to save the child to the last possible moment… leaving the mother to die because there was obviously no way that this child could have been born at all, dead or alive… Was that what had happened to Naeryn, all those years ago? Probably not. Still, the thought that those who had attended her might have left her to die in order to give all possible chances to the child made him sick.

But Rhae was still sick, more in mind than body. In a few weeks, she was able to sit up and then leave her bed but it seemed she didn't want to. She didn't want to see anyone, even Aegon or her children. She wouldn't let Aemon examine her. The only person she sometimes spoke to was the maid-servant who cleaned her bedchamber and brought her meals. No one else was allowed to enter.

"But if she gets worse, you are going in," Aegon said. "I don't care what she wants!"

"Fine," Aemon agreed. "Now eat something, for all gods' sake!"

Aegon looked as if he wanted to smash the plates on the floor but he restrained himself.

In the night, the Water Gardens pulsed with the slow rhythm of Rhae's illness, eerily quiet under the sun; at daylight, though, they came alive, radiant with the laughter of children who didn't know, didn't care about grief, and sadness, and loss.

Often, Maekar saw Dunkan looking at him when he thought Maekar didn't see him. The boy looked at him from the pools, peeked at him from around the corners, and one memorable time from the balcony where he had managed to get himself and his two-year-old sister as soon as they had been left alone for a minute… In this particular instance, Maekar had _not_ been in the proper mood to appreciate the cleverness of the boy who had figured out how to open a door with a handle placed higher than his head – he'd been too scared they'd both fall down before someone could reach the third floor and take them back in.

He was careful not to show that he knew Duncan was watching. Soon, the boy would come to him. He gave him two more days before curiosity get the better of him.

So, he was surprised when it was the little girl who came to him first. He looked up from his conversation with Aelinor and Daenerys to let her know that he had noticed her but not scare her off.

She slowly came to him, violet eyes sparkling. He smiled at her. She smiled back, showing a row of perfect white teeth, with a few not come out yet. "Take me," she ordered and he scooped her up. She touched his hair once, twice, then said she wanted down and he obeyed. He touched her cheek, smooth and warm. "What is it, Whirlwind?" he asked.

She giggled. "I am not whirwind! I only eat whirlwinds!"

Aelinor remembered that it had been Rhae's pet name when she had been Rhaelle's age. Maekar almost laughed. "You eat whirlwinds?"

"Sandstorms," Daenerys said. "They are much like whirlwinds and she likes eating sand, don't you, my sweet?"

"Likes eating sand," Rhaelle agreed. She still looking at Maekar, fascinated.

'She doesn't like it when I sprinkle her with it, though," Duncan said. He had seen that his sister had gone to the grown ups, so of course he couldn't be left behind.

"Do you sprinkle her often?" Maekar asked.

"No," Duncan denied.

"And if I ask her, what is she going to say?" Maekar asked sternly.

Duncan gave it a consideration. "Well, she will say that I do."

Everyone laughed.

"No!" Aelinor suddenly exclaimed. While everyone was looking at Duncan, Rhaelle had tottered over to the nearest low table and was now about to have her first sip of Dornish red. Daenerys took the girl in her lap and Rhaelle kept looking from Maekar to Aelinor from her new place.

"What?" Maekar asked. "What is it that she wants?"

"Your hair," Duncan said but when they both looked at him expectantly, he was suddenly ashamed and went to Daenerys' chair. She drew him close.

"What is it?" she asked. "Are you going to tell me?"

He whispered something to her and she smiled. "Ah, I see." Then, she looked at the others. "It seems that Rhaelle is fascinated with your looks. Save for her parents and myself, she has never seen anyone who looked like her before."

"Ah," Maekar said. "I should have known."

Duncan stood in front of him and looked at him like a battle commander assessing a troop. Finally, he nodded, as if he decided that Maekar had passed the inspection. "Father says you should be my grandfather."

"I shouldn't be," Maekar said and Aelinor gave him a startled look. Gods help them, she should have known that things were going _too_ well. It was time for Maekar to ruin them with that bloody pride of his that the little boy had somehow managed to sting… "I _am_ your grandfather."

Duncan nodded again. "You look like Father. And Mother. When is she going to come out?"

Maekar looked at the boy and sighed. "I don't know, lad," he admitted. "I don't know."

* * *

_A few days later…_

"You have sent for me, my lady," Alor Sand said and bowed formally before embracing both his stepmother and stepbrother. "Your people were waiting for me as soon as I came to anchor."

"Well, yes," Daenerys said. "Sit down, sit down."

She was so excited that she couldn't sit down herself, so she walked around her chamber and the carpet squeaked with the crunch of grit that always found in the rooms of the Water Gardens. Alor looked at Mors and cocked an eyebrow. The young Prince grinned wickedly and Alor sighed, taking a seat. "You Martells and your sense of humour. All right, my prince. Why did you summon me in such haste? And by the way, is it true that the Queen is here in person?"

"It is," Daenerys confirmed. "She and Maekar came here… just in time to prevent a tragedy. Alor, Rhae's child was stillborn."

"I heard." His face was dark. "But she will be all right?"

"Eventually. Aelinor and Maekar came to take them back. Aemon, Aegon's brother, accompanied them."

Alor looked through the window. "And are these all?"

This time, Mors laughed out loud. "You hoped you'd find the lady of your dreams here, brother? I'm afraid not."

"Mors," Alor sighed but that did not deter the younger one for a minute.

"Not that I blame you. Daella Targaryen was quite a surprise, she was. I've never seen a woman as beautiful as her. Baratheon was indeed a fool. Can you imagine if he had wed Princess Rhae instead?"

Alor barked a laugh. "Well, I guess we'd have attended his funeral a good deal earlier."

"Stop it, both of you," Daenerys said firmly. "Are you little girls, to gossip like this?"

She went to the writing desk she was currently ruling Dorne from and took out a parchment bearing the King's broken seal. She gave it to Alor. "I wished your father to be the one to give you this but he is away and he doesn't know when he'd be able to come back, so he let me do it instead. We wrote to the King months ago and now Maekar brought me his answer. Read it."

Alor Sand opened the letter. His puzzled glance went to Aerys' signature. And then he read the words… and was unable to speak.

Daenerys was smiling. "By his Grace's mercy and good will, Salt Shore, the seat of House Gargalen, left without a lord after your uncle's death and returned to Dorne and the Crown, was created once again as a lord's estate for you. On your father's plea, the King washed you clean of bastardy and decided that you take your mother's name, Gargalen. I hope that pleases you?"

Alor only nodded, still unable to speak. He had never expected something like this, had never dreamed of it. Sure, he was not given his father's name but everyone knew he was Maron Martell's son. Alynna Gargalen had lived with the Prince for years, up to her death about a year before Maron wed Daenerys Tagraryen. She had been his wife in all but name. And bastards did have the potential to create havoc, as the unending wars of the last decades had demonstrated. It was such an unprecedented thing to happen that there could not be a more evident measure for the trust Maron and Daenerys held in him.

"I… don't know what to say," he finally managed.

"You don't need to say a thing."

"How… how is the Council going to react?" he asked. "Such a thing is virtually unheard of, even in Dorne."

Mors shrugged. "It might be so. But it is well known that there is no man I trust more than you." He grinned. "And I'll expect obedience to your knees when I become your overlord, may this day not come in years."

Alor smiled back. "Keep dreaming these big dreams, lad. Keep dreaming."


	18. Chapter 18

_A few days later…_

It had taken little time for Aelinor to get used to the aroma of blood oranges and the feeling of little grits under her shoes – two things she would always associate with Dorne in her thoughts later. She would forever remember that there had been a time when she had been happy and carefree, as short as it was. The Water Gardens were truly an enchanted place. And the greatest magic of all was the small ball of warmth now nestled in her lap.

"I didn't know you were here."

Aelinor looked up and smiled. In the multicoloured light of the dying sun the two silver heads in front of her looked encircled by halos of fire. "We came to agreement that we both like it here," she said. In her lap, Rhaelle stirred for a moment and buried her face deeper against Aelinor's neck.

"I'll take her," Aegon said and made a step towards the huge tree and the swing Aelinor was sitting into. "It isn't comfortable for either of you."

"Does she look like someone who isn't comfortable?" There was a faint note of challenge in Aelinor's voice. "I'll take her to her bed later," she said.

He was still hesitant. "I don't know…"

"Aegon," Maekar said. "Leave them to it. As you see, they are both fine."

Roused by the voices, Rhaelle opened her eyes, saw her father, smiled sleepily, and promptly fell back asleep.

Aegon made up his mind. "Then, I'll go, Your Grace."

He bowed to the Queen and left, his boots crunching softly against the carpet of fallen leaves even after he got out of their line of vision. _He cannot even imagine what it feels like to be unable to walk this freely_ , Aelinor thought.

"Thank you," she said. "For supporting me."

Maekar shrugged. "He was just concerned that she was bothering you."

"She cannot bother me," Aelinor said. "Ever."

He sat in a stone seat near the swing. For a while, they were silent as dusk started to fall.

"I wish we could stay here forever," Aelinor finally said.

"So do I."

"It's so peaceful."

"It is," he agreed. The older he got, the lesser taste he got for battles and court politics. But that was the life he had been born for, the one he would eventually return to, so he was trying to grasp whatever he could from this short period of calm – for her, as much as him.

Rhaelle sighed in her sleep, purring like a kitten, opened an eye, snuggled closer against the Queen. "Mother," she murmured without waking up filly, and Aelinor stiffened before nuzzling the small silver head, hiding the sudden distress on her face. _She should have had children of her own_ , Maekar thought with equal parts sadness and anger _. I don't know how someone as smart as Aerys can be this stupid._ But then, Aerys had never wanted Aelinor. _And what of it? It isn't as if I wanted to wed Naeryn but once a husband, a man should be a husband. Aerys doesn't grasp this concept and here we are. Gods help us all._ And yet after all these years he still couldn't see how a man could not want Aelinor.

"Her mother will soon get better," the Queen said, sounding very unconvinced.

"Yes," Maekar replied, not sure just when this would happen.

Now Rhaelle woke up and looked around. Remembering where she was, she shot up with excitement and Aelinor grabbed her tight to stop her from toppling over. "Swing!" Rhaelle ordered and Maekar obediently stepped nearer to swing both her and Aelinor.

But they couldn't stay in the Water Gardens forever.

* * *

_A few days later…_

"Damn him to the seven hells!" Maekar muttered. "How does it come that he's still alive? Our spies told us that he was on his deathbed."

"Well, yes, we all hoped he was, "Maron Martell said calmly. "But he got better. There are talks of a new rebellion, of his intention to lead his men in person."

"I'll send a raven to King's Landing immediately," Aelinor spoke. "I'll warn them to watch the Pretender like hawks. No one knows what Bittersteel will do."

The Dornish lords and ladies looked at each other skeptically. Their law might give women equal rights to inherit but this woman, half-Dornish as she was, clearly had no training in thinking politically. No one objected to her words, though. Prince Mors asked, choosing his words carefully, "Your Grace, you think he'll try to get the Pretender free?"

Aelinor looked at him from the head of the table, the seat his father had given up to her for this meeting. "No, not at all," she denied. "I am afraid that he won't."

Again, confused looks followed. Maekar who was sitting near his sister looked at her, conveying that she'd have to say it specifically. Daenerys' eyes flashed a sudden understanding. A moment later, Maron nodded that he had got it, too.

For a moment, Maekar's thoughts flew to Rhae, alone in the Water Gardens. Of course, that was not entirely true, Aemon was with her, as well as the other young maester, Ivel. Still, he felt disturbed by the fact that whatever change came to her condition, he wouldn't know it for a while. But such was the price of being royal. With great power came great responsibilities. The return of Maron and his men from the far end of the Dornish seashore had summoned everyone important at Sunspear.

"I am afraid that he'd arrange the Pretender's assassination and then put the blame on us," Aelinor clarified. "Young Daemon never enjoyed Aegor Bittersteel's support. And I know Bittersteel since we were children. He's smart and bothered by no scruples at all. He would kill the Pretender, claim his brother Haegon and then claim a war in vengeance for his murdered King."

This was followed by a brief silence until the Dornish could think over this new bit of information. Then, the hall buzzed with lively conversations. Maron drank from his goblet. He probably hadn't slept for a day and a night, and then another day and the weariness was evident on his face. _He is no longer young and it is showing,_ Maekar thought. _None of us is._ He looked at Aegon. _As for the young ones… I don't know what's wrong with them. First, Aemon refused to let us use his brains for the state affairs and now Aegon is on his way to falling apart, unless Rhae recovers, and soon. And to think how easy it sounded – come here and take these mulish children back._

"There are some rumours that are even worse," spoke the new Lord Gargalen – Maekar still couldn't believe that this lunacy with creating him a lord had been Daenerys' idea. Hadn't she learned anything from the Blackfyre Rebellions that were still bothering them? She insisted that she trusted the lad and the decision was a sane one which only made Maekar think that Dornish sun had boiled her wits to a soup. Bastards were cowardly, and cheating, and could never be trusted to tell the truth.

Aelinor raised an eyebrow. "And what would they be?"

The young man looked aside. "People say that Prince Rhaegel is dying."

 _He isn't_ , Maekar almost said but he knew it was not true. The wasting disease killed most of its victims and Rhaegel was never this strong physically to fight it. Maekar himself had barely lived through the speckled monster, although his health was always much better than Rhaegel's. Still, it did not mean that death would come in a year, in five years or even more. It could be a slow one. Maekar hoped it would be.

"Some say that it is a spell… or a poisoning." Alor Gargalen paused. "They blame respectively the King's Hand and you, Your Grace," he finished, looking straight at Maekar. There was no excuse or fear in his voice – he was just relaying the facts. Maekar could not help but be impressed.

"That's a lie," Maekar stated. "I am no friend of the Hand but I know it to be a lie."

He did not bother to deny his own supposed involvement. If he did it would come out as a way of excusing himself… and he hadn't done this even after Baelor's death for which he was guilty. _The Seven take me if I start explaining myself over something I would never, ever do._ Not that they would believe him if he did because it would sound as if he _was_ guilty.

"We should spread some rumours of our own," he said. "Starting with the enmity between Bittersteel and the Pretender. If need arises, he can be moved to the chambers next to the King's own."

 _Or not_ , Aelinor almost said. The truth was, Aerys' chambers were among the most dangerous places in the Red Keep. She still didn't get it how he had managed to survive so long with the constant assassination attempts there.

"I should keep my men ready to march off at the shortest notice," Lady Uller said. "I suggest that everyone do the same."

It was reassuring to see such loyalty from the land that had joined the Targaryen's domain so recently. Whether it was mere lipservice or not still remained to be seen.

* * *

_The next week…_

"Maybe you should make a tour all around Dorne," Maekar said, only half-jokingly. "If that doesn't win them over, I don't know what could."

Aelinor looked at him and laughed. As reluctant as she was to admit such an embarrasing weakness, she had always enjoyed being loved by the crowds and the people of Sunspear had taken a great liking to her, much like the crowds in her childhood. Now the people in King's Landing only pitied her and that was a blow to her pride, so her unexpected popularity among the Dornishmen was like a balm. The lords and ladies in Maron's council were impressed with her readiness to hear out everyone and her rare but well-thought over suggestions; the servants were thrilled with her liking of everything; the people in the streets took a great delight in her coming out in traditional Dornish clothes, instead of stubbornly sweating in her velvets. And of course, her interest with local charities could not go unnoticed. And still… there was more to it. She turned people's heads not only because she was the Queen, not only because she was the daughter of the King who had given the realm peace and prosperity but because she was beautiful and she looked happy. That king in King's Landing, he must be very stupid, indeed, to give trouble to such a sweet queen!

Free of the lonely nights in the great bed made for two, free of the whispers of the court, Aelinor could finally be carefree. For now. She liked everything here – the sun, the sand that was everywhere, the short tempers and passion of the people – it seemed that there was more to Maekar's temper than the Targaryen… peculiarities. She even enjoyed the food, hot and spicy. She knew some of the dishes from her mother's time.

"Yes," she said. "Maybe I should. You will accompany me, of course."

Maekar looked up from the sword he was cleaning. "I thought the idea was charming them, not making them run away in terror?" he asked dryly.

She rolled her eyes. "Please, Maekar, can't you pretend that you are a kind person? Do it, and I'll pretend that I am not surprised."

Aegon laughed. Daenerys shook her head. "I know this look," she said. "I like the idea, though. It was not until Maron traveled me around Dorne to show me off that people warmed to me. I think it will work… if the Summerstorm Queen can refrain from showing her stormy side with such remarks," she finished with a smile at Aelinor.

Aegon stared, expecting his father to react. Maekar, though, just kept cleaning the sword. "I am not showing disrespect, Aegon," Daenerys said. "Your father and uncles called Aelinor that when we were children. I don't even know why I called her that. I hadn't thought about this nickname in years."

He looked so stunned that the two women laughed. "You think we were born grown-up?" Aelinor asked.

"Something like that," he admitted and looked at his father with new interest. He simply couldn't reconcile the image he had of his father with a boy coming up with nicknames for his sister. "So, what about the rest of you?"

"Well," Aelinor said, "Baelor was named The Perfect Prince… he was way too perfect! Aerys was Lord Walking Book," she went on and they all had a laugh at the King's expense. "As to Rhaegel, we named him Lord Goodfellow."

"And you?" Aegon asked and looked at his father. "Didn't you get a title?"

"His Wickedness," Aelinor said and Aegon cringed.

"Oh my." Then, he looked aside to hide his laughter.

"You can laugh," Maekar said and allowed himself a smile. "I suppose I did deserve it," he told the two women.

"It fits you perfectly," Aelinor assured him. "Now and then."

Again, he didn't react in any way but a smile.

"And you?" Aegon asked Daenerys. She shook her head and smiled. Unlike Maekar and Aelinor's smiles, hers was a little sad.

"No. I grew up in King's Landing and they had already moved to Summerhall when they came up with those names. When I next saw them, the nicknames had already stuck."

And Aegon suddenly imagined her as the child she must have been, so privileged, yet so isolated. She had had her bastard siblings, of course, but they had not been her equals. She hadn't even had a nickname. He felt so grateful for Aemon, for Rhae and Daella, for Daeron, for having the chance of being Egg.

Maekar stood up and raised the sword to the sun to inspect his work. "Come on," he told them. "Anyone willing to come with me for a ride?"

"I am," Aelinor said immediately and stood up. "Just give me time to change my clothes."

Daenerys laughed. "Riding through the sand dunes is an… experience," she said. "And don't tell I didn't warn you."

The way she spoke, the way she looked like – it was evident that sand dunes were her place now. Sand dunes. Sunspear. Dorne. Aegon could only hope that he and Rhae would find a place to call their own.


	19. Chapter 19

_A few days later…_

When Rhae opened her eyes, something looked different. She blinked to chase the sleep off and find out what it was. _But of course_ , she realized a moment later. _It is the sun._ It was so bright and blinding, stealing into her room through the small slits of the shutters.

Then, she felt a sudden stab of guilt. Every other time she woke up, her first thought was about her dead child. It was obscene to admire such a simple thing as the sunlight.

She rang the small bell on her bedside table. A moment later, Dorea entered hurriedly with a steaming cup. "I am sorry, my lady," she apologized. "You were sleeping so fast that I didn't know when you'd wake up. But I am ready now."

Rhae yawned and took the cup from the girl, brought it to her lips, then spew the liquid horrified. "What's this?" she croaked. The taste was so foul that she wanted to wash her mouth with soap. "Are you trying to poison me?"

"No!" the Dornish girl squeaked and blanched at the accusation. "My princess, it is just your potion. The same as yesterday. And the day before that. And the day…"

"I get the idea," Rhae interrupted and looked at the cup incredulously. Now that Dorea said it, she did have a faint memory of a nasty taste. But it hadn't been this foul! "I must have been mad, to drink such a thing."

"Not mad, my lady." The girl had taken very little time to compose herself.

"No, not mad." _Just sad._ Tears welled up in Rhae's eyes but after a while dried up. "How is everything going?" she asked. "How are the children?"

"Very well, Your Grace. Prince Duncan is turning out to be the terror of the pools and Princess Rhaelle is quite taken with the Queen. In fact, all the children are fascinated with her and your lord father."

"My father…" Rhae said softly, narrowing her eyes to focus better. "I thought it was just a dream… So they are truly here?"

The girl nodded and started telling her more about that but Rhae shook her head and frowned because she had noticed an unpleasant fact. "I stink!" she exclaimed, embarrassed. "I stink like…" She cut off, failing to find a proper comparison.

"Your Grace," Dorea tried to explain, "you were so ill…"

"I am well now," Rhae said. "I am up and about. What, don't you believe me? Look at me!"

Cautiously, she swung a leg over the edge of the bed. Nothing happened and the other leg followed. Slowly, Rhae started walking through the chamber, each step more confident than before. She stood in front of the shutters, leaving her face under the thin ray of sunshine and imagined that she could feel its warmth on her cheeks. Deep inside, her body still ached and screamed with the horror of what had been done to it. But she was alive. She was getting better. She was young. She had all that made life worth living. And one day, she'd have another child to fill that awful emptiness.

She would live. She wanted to.

"Make my bath ready!" she told Dorea impatiently. "And bring me some clothes. Something bright. Something… red! Yes, yes, something red. Why is everything in this room black? I don't want to see a piece of black cloth any more!"

"Your Grace, you told me…"

"I told you I wanted black?" Rhae asked and the girl nodded. "Well, I no longer want it. I want a red gown, and rubies, and…"

She impatiently took off her nightgown, frowning at the smell, and started dancing around the room, then stopped and looked at her maid. "Are you still here?" she asked and Dorea came to her senses and left the bedchamber with a broad smile.

Not even an hour later, Rhae went out in the garden, her red gown a bright spot against the white marbles of the arcades. She headed straight for the pools where, as she expected, she found the usual cacophony of children and the nursemaid with the babe in her arms. At seeing her, the young woman blinked and raised a hand to her brow, as if she wanted to make sure that she was seeing fine. Rhae came near and took her son from the girl's arms, held him close, buried her nose into the silver dawn on his head and pressed. When she was able to tear away, Jaehaerys looked at her and gurgled. She smiled back.

From the pools, Duncan saw her and starting waving off frantically before shooting out of the water and started running toward her. "Duncan, be careful!" she cried, concerned. "You'll slip!"

"He won't," a familiar voice said behind her. "This boy is… stuck to the floor. He won't slip. I wonder who he had inherited this from. Certainly not you or Aegon… you were constantly tripping in your own feet."

She turned back and looked at her father before smiling. "Did we? I don't remember."

"I do," Maekar said. "And you did."

He looked at her up and down. "I see you are better."

"That's right," she confirmed. "Soon, I'll be as good as new."

He was still looking at her and she wondered what he saw. She had changed much but apart from the fact that he had aged, he was literally the same as he had been at their last meeting.

"That's a good thing to hear," Maekar said. "This nonsense had been going on for too long. It's time for all of you to come home."

Her eyes widened. It was what she had expected – there could be no other reason why both her father and aunt were here – but she had not expected that he'd bring the matter up so soon or so directly. Maybe she should feel victorious – the family that had once spurned them was now making the first step. But these five years had been filled with so much. So many events. They were almost a lifetime – and to her children, they were literally their lifespans. She felt only relief that it was all over. Relief – and a little dread. She would now have to actually face Daella with the knowledge of what she had done to her.

"Yes," she said. "Maybe it is. I would… arrrgh!" she screamed and jumped aside, clutching Jaehaerys tighter. Duncan came to a stop in front of her and she dragged him aside. Aelinor who was coming from the courtyard also screamed.

Maekar sighed. "It isn't poisonous," he said and bent down to scoop the little green snake. "See? I won't die," he added when the snake actually bit him. He tried to keep the scowl off his face – poisonous or not, the bite was painful. He carried the snake deep into the garden – Duncan followed him, very interested – and left it down. It soon disappeared into the bushes.

The screams had attracted a crowd in less than a minute. Aegon looked at his father, clearly impressed. "I had no idea you were such an expert in snakes," he exclaimed.

"He always was." Aelinor glared at the direction where the snake had disappeared and then glared at Maekar. "Much to our chagrin. I can tell you such stories of him and snakes…"

She smiled at Rhae, obviously relieved to see her in such a good state but didn't come near – she left it to Aegon who approached Rhae with expression that bespoke both hope and apprehension. Rhae held out a hand and he gripped it as if he'd never let go.

She looked around at the faces she had come to know. She was so happy to see everyone. Rhaelle was sleeping in her nursemaid's arms. Alor Sand inclined his head in respect. She placed Jaehaerys in Aegon's arms and held out a hand to Alor who bowed over it. "Welcome home, Ser," she told him. "I didn't know you were back in Dorne. I was already thinking of talking to the Prince about sending a searching party to follow your tracks in the Free Cities."

"That is so caring of you," Maekar murmured. The new Lord Gargalen had not only his father's favour, it seemed.

"Is it?" Rhae shrugged and explained, "Ser Alor has become one of our dearest friends, Father. He led us here to safety, welcomed us into their home and gave us his friendship when we had no friends."

Alor smiled. "It has always been my privilege. However, you are no longer friendless. You and your husband both have become great favourites in Dorne. You will be sorely missed when you go back to take your rightful place."

 _Our rightful place_ , Rhae thought. Even their friends thought that they should go back to their real home, their real life. She felt a sudden shiver of foreboding, as if the warmth of Dorne was already seeping off her body.

* * *

_Two days later…_

"So?" the King asked. "May I hope that you have reconsidered and are ready to do what is expected of you?"

"Yes."

The answer was so unexpected that Daeron looked at his youngest son as if he was wondering whether he had heard right. The Iron Throne, the Kingsguard, the dragon skulls were all in attendance. All at hand to impress and intimidate someone who had already given up. And since Maekar never gave up, it was no wonder that the King was wondering what was going on. He had expected more of a fight.

"So, you will do it?" he asked again.

"Yes," Maekar confirmed.

Daeron and Baelor traded a look, both stunned.

"So you'll wed Lady Naeryn Velaryon?" Daeron asked once again, just to be sure.

"Yes… yes… yes!" Maekar's hand closed around the hilt of his sword so tight that the skin broke against the carving. Drops of blood spattered the floor.

"I am glad to hear it," the King said, his voice now softer. "I know this wasn't the marriage you desired and I regret this. But you'll get used to Lady Naeryn. She is said to be of the gentlest temper and her beauty is unrivaled."

Baelor shook his head in warning but it was too late. This lame attempt of consolation was too much for Maekar whose self-control that was never this good to start with was especially thin these days. "Do you think I care?" he spat. "Do you really think it? I'll hate her beauty, I'll hate all of her whenever she finds it in her merciful heart to come closer to the wilding that I am… but I will wed her, you can rest assured. May I go now?"

"You may," Daeron allowed and Maekar left in long strides. The empty eye sockets of the dragon skulls illumined his way out of the hall. Actually, it was the torches spread evenly along the walls but it looked as if the dragons were looking at him, their eyes burning… burning…

A hand touched his shoulder softly. He opened his eyes and they immediately went to his sister's face, thoughtful and concerned. In the bright light of the slim torch she was carrying Maekar noticed that her eyes were red and puffed. She had been weeping.

"I am sorry for waking you up, Maekar. But I couldn't wait till morning. This night, a fast messenger of Aerys' came. He brought a letter with grave news. Here. Read…"

Maekar followed the movement of her hand, took the letter. Before reading it, he closed his eyes for a moment. Then, he looked at Aelinor, mustered courage, looked at the letter.

 _Rhaegel is dead,_ Aerys had written in his clerkly hand. _Along with the children. An accident with a carriage. I want all of you back immediately._


	20. Chapter 20

Chapter 20

_A few hours later…_

"We must go out."

She didn't react in any way.

"Aelinor, we must go out. We must let them see us."

Once again, there was no reaction. Maekar looked at the window. Through the slit between the heavy velvet curtains, sunrays came, bright and warm. Inside, they had stoked the fire to an almost unbearable shine, yet they did not seem to be able to get warm. Aelinor had Maekar's cloak tightly fastened around her, yet she was shaking so hard that her teeth clattered. Maekar leaned over to gather the cover they had dragged from the bed to warm themselves in front on the fire. It had not helped. Maekar looked at his sister and felt that his own teeth might start clattering any minute now.

Aelinor was in a bad way, this much was obvious. Blue shadows swallowed her red-rimmed eyes, her face was sickly white and drawn. Her wild hair swept the floor behind her.

"Here," Maekar said, arranging the cover around her. "Let's get you warm now, yes?" he added, resigned that she wouldn't be fit to meet anyone just yet.

Aelinor looked at him and motioned. Maekar nodded and sat next to her, reaching for her hands. She moved slightly, relinquishing part of the cover to him. "I can't believe it," she said softly. "I knew he was very ill but…"

Her voice faded. Maekar, too, was silent. They were both thinking the same thing: why did such a thing have to happen to Rhaegel who was a good man – certainly better than both of them combined. While none of them was malicious or cruel, they had their flows and they were both too proud for their own good. Rhaegel, as mad as he was – as he _had been_ – had often taken them aback with his acute observations, with noticing things they would have never seen out of anger, stung pride, or hurt. He had always been ready to smile and forgive. He had been unable to hold grudges. He had seen only good in people. If any of them had to point a truly saintly man, they would have chosen their mad and gentle brother. Aelinor's tears flowed. Maekar's eyes were dry. He still couldn't believe it had happened so suddenly. He had not realized that he had been still hoping for a miracle.

"Here we are," he whispered, not so much to Aelinor as to himself. "He's free. He's finally free from his torment. And I'll get my punishment."

Aelinor gave him a sharp look and her breath caught. He had never intimidated her with his physical presence or his brusque manners but sometimes, there were moments when he scared her senseless – on those rare occasions, one in a few years if as many, when everything he had kept inside out of hurt and wounded pride came out and rendered him unable to function at all. For a split second she envisioned the reaction of the Dornish and their own companions if they were to find out that Maekar was unable to rise from his bed, yet there was nothing wrong with him physically. Rumours would abound and beat them all the way to King's Landing. As ill-regarded as Maekar was, his martial prowess and energy gave him ground among nobility and smallfolk alike. If someone found out that this energy had its limits… Visions of new intrigues and alliances in Westeros and across the Narrow Sea danced in her mind with cruel clarity.

She rose. "I'll go to my chambers to bathe and dress," she said. "Meet me in an hour time after doing the same."

He, too, rose and bowed. "As you will, Your Grace."

Come what may, they had duties to attend to.

* * *

_An hour later…_

The first person they met at leaving Aelinor's chambers was Rhae with Jaehaerys in her arms. She looked at them and inclined her head. "You heard?" Aelinor asked.

Rhae nodded. "By now, everyone has," she said. "Aegon heard it from his squire," she added, "who heard it from a servant. Even the laundresses here know."

That was what they expected; the sight of highborn and lowborn keeping their distance but watching them intently was a sure sign of upheaval. Maekar gave his daughter a stern look. "How could you go out looking like this?" he asked. "Puffy eyes and all. Go to your chambers and make yourself presentable. It is not appropriate to behave like a hysterical girl overcome with grief. If Aegon is somewhere near, tell him to do the same. I'll see you both in my chambers when the official announcement is over."

Blood rose to Rhae's face. Next to Aelinor who was immaculately dressed and coifed she did look quite disorderly. She couldn't believe her father was paying attention to such details in a moment like this. Did he have blood flowing in his veins, or was it just ice water? "Very well," she said coldly. "Forgive me for having the audacity to grieve," she added.

Maekar motioned her away and she left with a mix of grief, confusion and outrage but careful not to let it show.

"Come on," Aelinor murmured. "Let's get this over with."

They proceeded through a wide gallery, silent, grave and composed. This time, there was no supporting arm around Aelinor's waist – she had to make it on her own. Maekar was only careful to let her dictate their speed.

In the sea of faces, some familiar, others not, all blurring together in a hundred-mouthed mass, Maekar suddenly made out a face from the past – someone he had not seen in many years. For a brief moment, he felt a surge of joy before reality anchored him down again. He caught his one time companion's eye and looked at his chambers. Ser Galend nodded that he had got it.

Through the hastily prepared announcement in the Tower of the Sun, Maekar was focused on subtly observing the faces of the lords and ladies of the Dornish court and trying to find out which ones were still loyal to the Targaryens and which ones would be tempted to throw their luck with the Blackfyre pretenders and Bittersteel, curse him to the seven hells. Rhaegel and the twins were probably still not laid to rest, and the rumours already abounded. Maekar had heard the Hand's name being mentioned more than once as having taken part in spooking the horses of that thrice cursed carriage. Others talked about Maekar himself - not to his face, of course, but talk they did. That did not surprise him – it was only to be expected. Even if Aerys came to his senses and decided to be a husband, Aelinor was almost certainly past childbearing age. Maekar stood next in line to inherit. No one knew and certainly very few would believe that he did not want the Iron Throne – all they saw was that he had killed Baelor. That he had wanted to be the King's Hand. There were whispers and sidelong looks even now, in the Tower of the Sun. He did not care.

He cared, however, how many of those would turn against him one day. The worst thing was, he could not really blame them. Even if he didn't do anything to provoke such a reaction, Daeron and Aerion surely would, as much as he hated to admit it. And this time around, instead of minor rebellions, they could have a great one again. _So, then,_ he asked himself, _so it was all in vain – all we tried to do, all we strove to achieve? Peace and prosperity… they'll go with the wind just like that. Why we failed? Why did we fight so hard? Why did all those men in my host died at Redgrass Field? Why did I sell my daughter, my precious one, like a lamb to the butcher? Why was all that?_

A sudden stinging brought him to his senses. Aelinor's painted nails were digging into his palm, drawing blood. He realized that the meeting was over, stood up and held out his hand. She took it and rose. They left among a choir of whispers that were now more evident than before.

As he had bidden, Rhae and Aegon waited for him in his chambers, both looking like royals were expected to look. _So they can get a grip of themselves when they want to_ , Maekar thought _. It's just that they can't be bothered._

The two young people felt his displeasure and tensed, ready for a fight. Aegon looked furtively at the bottom of the solar where Ser Galend stood discreetly.

"He's here, Aegon, by two reasons," Maekar said. "First, because I want him to be here and second, because I want him to be here. Do you have anything else to tell me?"

Aegon shook his head. Maekar sighed and led Aelinor to an upholstered chair. She leaned her head against the back and closed her eyes, letting her mask fall completely. Her grief was so evident that both Rhae and Aegon looked from her to Ser Galend, stunned that she'd be so comfortable letting herself go in front of a stranger.

Except, of course, if he weren't a stranger. "You know each other," Aegon said, looking from Ser Galend to Maekar, from Maekar to the Queen and back to Ser Galend. "You knew each other before."

"Once I lived and served at King's Landing, Your Grace," Ser Galend said.

"I see." Aegon hesitated but curiosity got the better of him. "Did you know my uncle?"

"Yes, I did. He was very good to me."

Aegon nodded. "He was good to all people, everyone says so."

"Enough babbling," Maekar cut in. "The day is terrible enough as it is. I'll be as short as possible and I expect the same of you."

He looked first at Aegon and then Rhae. There was something in his eyes that made Aegon go to Rhae's side and place a hand at her arm. Something resembling… menace?

"I am going back to King's Landing," Maekar said. "I came here to see whether you and I can see eye to eye about all that happen and put it behind. By many reasons, that did not happen. And I don't have time for long conversations and blaming each other. The kingdom is in turmoil. I have to leave as soon as possible. Aerys was clear about that, too."

Aegon and Rhae looked at each other. "But… but we can't just leave everything and…" Aegon started.

"I didn't say I expected you to," Maekar said. His eyes were violet ice, cold, appraising. "Do whatever you deem necessary. Aegon. _I_ am going back to King's Landing."


	21. Chapter 21

_A week later…_

When they crossed the Boneway and entered the Red Mountains, Duncan Targaryen cried out in delight. "Look, look how lovely it is!"

And he pointed at the thick forests, green and shining with the dew, at the bright coloured spots of meads of wild flowers, at the blinking eyes of the hundred lakes.

Rhae looked at him and smiled. Her son knew only the Dornish sands and the carefully arranged magnificence of the Water Gardens. He had never known that there _was_ such a thing as a mountain.

"Mother!" He tugged at her sleeve and when she didn't immediately leaned to see what he wanted to show her, he started to poke his head through the window to see better. Aelinor drew him back just in time and he sat grumbling.

A gush of wind entered the wheelhouse when Maekar opened the door and leaned on his saddle to peek inside. "Is everyone fine?" he asked. As much as Rhae assured everyone that she had fully recovered, he was still not convinced and there was something in Aelinor's posture that told him that she was in pain.

"Yes," Aelinor said.

"No!" Duncan cried. " _I_ am not fine. I want to go out! I want to watch…"

Rhae sighed and looked down at Jaehaerys who was going to sleep in her lap. "Would you call Aegon?" she asked her father. "He can take Duncan with him for a while…"

"Give him here," Maekar said. Aelinor was about to call to the coachman but Maekar shook his head. "I'll take him," he said. Duncan immediately bolted for the door. Maekar leaned a bit more and grabbed him into a firm grip. With her heart in her mouth, Aelinor saw him lifting the boy in the air and placing him in front of himself on the horseback. Duncan immediately started pointing at various birds and high peaks, his eyes shining like two violet moons. Maekar patiently explained which each one of them was and where he was at loss, Ser Galend helped. Later, Duncan would relay all that to his mother.

 _Yes,_ Ser Galend thought. _It was a good thing they decided to come with us and not wait for the Princess to recover. And the boy is an added prize. Maybe he will bring his parents and Maekar together. And it will certainly do the Seven Kingdoms some good to see that the future of the Targaryen dynasty is secured._

Duncan made the days go faster, with his inexhaustible curiosity and enthusiasm. The men took turns to take him along on their saddles and Maekar could swear that he had glimpsed a smile even at Ser Willem Wylde's face when it was his turn once. He hadn't known the old Kingsguard could smile. They returned the boy to the wheelhouse only for eating and sleeping.

But the nights… that was a different matter altogether. In the night, every doubt, the new grief and the old grievances came anew for all of them. Rhae was still reliving the horrific removal of her baby, her mind capable of replicating the pain to the last notch. Aegon was trying to imagine what their life in King's Landing would be like. Would they ever be able to make the others see them as something more than a pair of pampered and reckless children who had forsaken their duty for feelings? They were both scared of how things with Daella would be like. If she were happy, it would have been easier… but they knew that their actions had cost her. Aelinor couldn't sleep, tormented by the pain she didn't take anything against because she feared losing the clarity of her mind more than anything, so she had plenty of time to grieve for Rhaegel, think of the past and consider everything that each of them could have done differently. Should have done differently. Maekar swung between grief and remorse, and anger for everything that had happened to all of them, to him and because of him. And now he'd face his punishment… that thrice damned throne he did not even want. _Maybe I'll be lucky and die before Aerys,_ he thought but no, he had no right to hope even for this. The less time Daeron and Aerion had to ruin Westeros, the better. _Maybe I am the reason they are the way they are._ He still remembered vividly those first years, how he had felt about the marriage not of his choosing, the wife not of his choosing and the children she was about to give him. He'd been scared that Naeryn would give birth to monsters because of the hatred he felt for their mother and them… and himself, for letting his father and the Dornish seer break him. _Well, I guess it turned out to be true. Just not in the most obvious way._ Looking at Aegon and Rhae, he was acutely aware that he could have been his son, had he had the courage… or the irresponsibility. The memories of Baelor came back more often now, too, and he suspected it had something to do with Duncan, this little Baelor look-alike.

"Aren't you going to sleep?" Ser Galend asked softly, going near the window in Lord Dondarrion's bedchamber which the Lord of Blackhaven had hastily given up to Maekar at their arrival too soon after the courier announcing it.

Maekar shook his head. "You can go to bed, though," he said. "There is no need to stay awake because of me."

 _I bet there is_ , Ser Galend thought. In the last few weeks, the two of them had fallen back to their old rapport with surprising ease and it was obvious to him that the last thing the Prince needed was to be left alone to ponder over everything that had gone wrong. Of course, there was nothing that could be done – even now, when he was no longer young, Maekar had too much energy that a whole day of riding could not exhaust. Sooner or later, he would be left alone with his grim thoughts.

Or maybe not. Suddenly, the Queen stood at the door, garbed in a simple white robe. Her silver hair was tumbling over her shoulders, her face recently washed. She was as beautiful as ever, yet she looked older than her years and terribly weary. He was not surprised to see her here – she had been coming to Maekar's chamber each night in whatever castle they were spending the night. Alas, Ser Galend could bet it was not for the same purpose she had visited her brother's room nightly when they had been young. He remembered them as they had been then – bright and imbued with promise and hope.

"Don't," Maekar snapped.

"What?"

"You pitied us. Don't do that."

"I most certainly did not."

Maekar raised an eyebrow. "Really?" he asked sarcastically.

His old companion didn't bat an eyelid. "I save my pity for those who truly need it, for mothers with hungry babes to feed, for those ill beggars we saw at the castle gate, for those suffering from grey scale and women with no man to protect them. You and Her Grace may be miserable but misery is much easier to bear in a castle."

Which did not mean that he had to like what had happened with them, how their lives had turned out. But no, he did not pity them.

Aelinor stared at him, stunned. Maekar shook his head. "I wonder how I survived all this time without you to put things in perspective," he said.

"Anything for my lord," Ser Galend said tartly.

"Very well," Maekar said. "You can go to bed now. Rest well, for we are leaving at dawn."

Ser Galend bowed and softly closed the door behind him. Aelinor sat in front of the fireplace. Maekar stood at the window, staring unseeingly in the darkness beneath him. This night, there were almost no stars.

"You know, that was what I kept telling myself for years," Aelinor suddenly spoke. "That there were people far worse off than me who were truly deserving of compassion."

He turned to look at her but the dim light of the few candles didn't let him see her face too clearly. "Did it help?"

"Sometimes. When it did, I was grateful."

"And when it didn't?"

She smiled weakly. "When it didn't, I couldn't help but think that if I had been with you, things would have been different. Better. Stupid, I know, but that's what I keep thinking until I turned twenty."

He went to the table and took the big decanter that had been left there. Obviously, Lord Dondarrion preferred fresh water to wine and since they were close to the mountains, there was plenty of that here, brought by pipes. Maekar himself liked having water in his rooms instead of wine; now he poured a goblet for Aelinor and another for himself.

"Now, it's the other way around," he said, taking in the tiredness of her face, the pain she was still trying to hide. He was almost sure that under the robe, her leg and hip had started deforming. Aging made everything harder. It shamed him now to remember how he had once resented her, how he had blamed her for the fact that whenever she appeared, his love for Naeryn simply disappeared. _When she was at King's Landing and I at Summerhall, it was easy to convince myself that I was over her, that I overcame my feelings for her, that I loved Naeryn now._ Yet, it had been only a painful scab on his young, fiery and yearning heart. "Now, it's the other way around. We just missed each other by twenty years."

He spoke evenly, with some detached surprise. They were both so weary. Maybe too weary to care any more. Twenty years was such a long time.

"May I stay?" Aelinor asked, as she did every night, and he nodded. As warped as their relationship had become, they still felt soothed around each other. They would sit in front of the flames silently until they were too exhausted to think or feel anything. Then, she would leave and they would have a few hours rest before going on their way to King's Landing at dawn.

Bone-tired and sick of everything or not, with great privileges came great responsibilities.

* * *

_A few days later…_

It was the late afternoon when they entered King's Landing. Since there was still an official mourning, there was no welcoming ceremony. That suited them just fine – carpets and banners, and crowds throwing flowers would delay them for some hours and by now, everyone just wanted a bath and bed. Still, while their cavalcade was crossing the city, word spread and people went into the streets, staring at their young prince and his beautiful princess, cheering for the lovely children staring at them curiously. Duncan was turning this way and that, his eyes impossibly wide. Aegon held him firm, otherwise the boy would have slithered out of his grasp with all this fidgeting. Rhae had left the wheelhouse and was now atop her magnificent Lightfoot, Jaehaerys stirring in her arms. She was smiling and nodding, instructing her maid to give alms. Still, behind the smile, her apprehension grew. The Red Keep was getting near. Soon, she'd pass through the gates and see faces of people she loved… and people she hated… and she'd have to stand her ground and prove she was no longer the reckless girl they had last seen…

Aegon touched her hand and she smiled at him. It was worth it, she thought. Love is always worth it. To have someone who understood her without words, to share her world with him – that was what it all had been about.

In the Red Keep, Daella was the first person they encountered. She was talking to a courtier, shaking her head in reproach. She looked up and smiled at them but immediately went back to her conversation. Suddenly, she looked up again and gave a small cry before running up to them.

And stop, petrified, at the sight of the boy staring at her curiously, the boy with dark hair, like a raven wing, and violet eyes like the deepest shade of dawn. The boy who resembled her. Rhae flushed.

"Daella, I…"

Her sister raised a hand to stop her. "Please. Don't."

A moment later, she smiled. "Welcome home, Rhae," she said and hugged her. "Welcome, both of you. I am so happy to see you."

She sounded sincere. She _was_ sincere. Still, as she was walking toward her father and Aemon, her mouth quivered, just for a moment. Aemon held her hand a bit longer.

"I am all right," she said.

"Are you sure?" he asked.

She nodded but tears welled up in her eyes. "My son would have been his age now."

He stroked her hand. There was nothing to say, nothing at all.

Still, being Daella, she refused to let bad feelings overcome her. She had been waiting for this moment for so long. And as she was looking at the little Duncan who could be easily mistaken for hers, at the pretty Rhaelle who had fallen asleep in her nursemaid's arms, at the small bundle that practically hid the precious being inside from view, she felt a stony resolve fill her. One day, she would have a child of her own. She would have a husband she could live with. One day… one day…

"Let's go home," she turned to everyone and they entered the inside of the Red Keep.

**The End**

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story was originally planned as being two or three chapters long. As it grew and spread, I found out that I was constantly writing a spinoff or three. I'll transfer them here very soon, starting with A Dragon Reborn which is kind of sequel and is focused on Daella.


End file.
